


Present Tense

by Frea_O



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholics Anonymous, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Foster Care, Homecoming, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frea_O/pseuds/Frea_O
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after one of the worst nights of Laurel Lance’s life, an old teammate asks her to come home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Present Tense

**Author's Note:**

> See if you can spot the 10 Things I Hate About You reference. The best part about being the same age as Laurel is sharing pop culture with her. Thanks to fandomnerd for inspiring this (go read her [Laurel moves to Gotham and takes care of Stephanie Brown work](http://archiveofourown.org/series/395347) as it was a major inspiration here!), to my friend for help with AA, to Kaleidoscopes and Carousels and Frissy for being remarkable flailers, and to my own sense of panic and doom for not letting me write the project I actually need to be working on and instead making me blather on about how much I love Laurel Lance for over 20,000 words.
> 
> PS - Make sure you look at the tags. I included some trigger warnings. This fic deals with some hard subjects.

**Chapter One**

“So,” Felicity says when the shock has worn off, when they’re at a coffee shop and Laurel’s scrunching up her nose and poking out her tongue to make the infant smile, “you know the worst time to break up with somebody? Two days before you discover you’re pregnant, as it turns out.”

“Ah.” Laurel makes another face, puffing out her cheeks. After being on Diana’s team for months and seeing the warrior laugh heartily at the silliest of things, she’s lost a bit of her natural reserve. Loosened up, as Babs put it. So what if the Black Canary looks a bit goofy? The kid is seriously cute. She sneaks a glance at Felicity, who looks older and tired and as stunning as ever. “I would’ve thought you two’d be the type to make a go at it anyway. For the sake of…”

“Shayna. That’s her name.”

“Your idea?” Laurel asks.

“Oliver wanted to call her Moira.”

Laurel wrinkles her nose, but this time it has nothing to do with entertaining the baby. “You weren’t a fan of Moira Queen.”

“And that remains true, but we compromised. So you’re holding Shayna Moira Smoak-Queen.”

“There’s a name for you. Like I’m one to talk. _Dinah_.” Laurel rolls her eyes. The movement makes a giant grin spread over Shayna’s face before she squeals loudly enough that several of the patrons in the coffee shop look over. They smile, but Laurel regretfully hands the baby back. “Definitely inherited a few things from her mother.”

“Not even eight months old and she’s already got the Smoak curse. Poor kid.” But Felicity’s eyes are fond as she absently brushes her daughter’s hair back. “We decided it wasn’t fair to try and stay together. Too many issues on both sides and in the long-run, we’d hurt her more than we’d help her.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurel says. She knows Felicity struggles with abandonment issues from her own father and now she has a daughter with a man she’s not even seeing. It must resonate in awful ways.

“Don’t be,” Felicity says, looking up and meeting Laurel’s eyes like she knows exactly what she’s thinking. Shayna, in her lap, continues to make nonsense noises and chew on her fist. “We make it work. Oliver’s a great father, I don’t place crazy demands on him in order to keep custody, so on and so forth.”

“I’m glad you have that.”

“You look good. Not like beautiful good, but _good_ good, like you’re—oh god, I’m not calling you ugly or anything, I swear, you always look that kind of good, but I mean—”

“I look good, yeah,” Laurel says, and she can’t stop the smile because this is Felicity at her purest. “I got what you mean.”

“Right. Because the last thing you would be is ugly.”

“Thanks.” Laurel fiddles with her coffee cup. “I like it here. I miss you guys, but I’m part of something here. Diana’s a great leader. Some things remain eerily the same, though. For example, I think you and Babs might have been separated at birth.”

“Babs as in Barbara Gordon?” Felicity asks, and Laurel raises an eyebrow. “We’ve ‘met,’ sort of. She reached out to me a few months back. She’s got quite a few Smoak instruments that she uses.”

Laurel frowns and pulls out her phone. She hadn’t given it much thought when Babs had handed it over, but now she can see the tiny ST logo engraved in the corner.

She’s been carrying a little piece of Felicity around for months. “Huh,” she says. “Neat.”

Felicity grins and pulls out a little stuffed toy from her bag for Shayna. “Um, Oracle kept me up to date on you. She didn’t tell me much, but—like if you were okay, that you weren’t hurt, that sort of thing. I hope you don’t mind.”

“We’re still friends,” Laurel says, clamping down on the warmth that wants to spread through her midsection. “I left because I needed to. For me. Not to punish anybody.”

“I know that.”

Do you? Laurel wants to ask, but one of the principles of being a lawyer is to only ask questions where you know the answer or absolutely need to know. Right now there’s no point in exposing old wounds to the light, not for a simple visit. So she looks at the baby, who’s babbling away at the toy. “I could have kept up with the Star City crew better, apparently. I would have sent flowers.”

“We kept her birth under wraps. After everything that happened to William…well.”

“Understandable,” Laurel says.

“But enough about that. I want to hear about you. Oracle told me you kicked Supergirl’s ass,” Felicity says, brightening up.

Laurel has to laugh. Kara relies on her strength and invincibility in battle. Put in her the kryptonite training room, and it’s a different story. “Sort of. She was depowered at the time. Still hits like a semi-truck. I was limping for a week.”

“Aw.”

“But hey, it was pretty cool. I kicked Supergirl’s ass.”

“That’s the spirit. I want to hear about this new team of yours and what the future’s like.” Felicity leans forward, eyes bright.

The future is a mess, and Laurel never wants to talk about that, but she smiles. “I’ve got a better idea. Want to meet them?”

* * *

They’ve got an unspoken ‘ask before you bring visitors’ policy, but Laurel figures Babs has vetted Felicity. So she waits for Felicity to unhook the wide-eyed Shayna from the car-seat and, carrying the diaper bag herself, leads the way into the Clock Tower. At least Steph won’t be there, she thinks. That’s a long story and not really one she wants getting back to the team in Star City.

Or not. Steph’s eyes go comically wide. “Baby!” she says, talking around half the red vine crammed in her mouth and pointing. She looks at Laurel. “Did the recruitment age drop even lower because if so, I have a few complaints.”

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“Parent teacher conference day.” Steph gives Laurel her most angelic smile.

“Funny how I never got a notice about that.”

Steph only looks innocent as Felicity’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. “Would I lie?”

“Yes. But anyway: Steph, this is Felicity. She’s an old teammate of mine, and this is her daughter Shayna. Felicity, meet Stephanie Brown, who’s usually in pre-calc right now.”

“You’re on the team?” Felicity asks because Steph looks fourteen.

“I’m the star,” Steph says. “Even though they don’t let me go out with them yet.”

“Graduate high school and then we’ll talk.”

Steph immediately bounces over and starts making faces at Shayna, who is of course delighted to make a new friend. In less than thirty seconds, Laurel’s ward is holding the baby and heading into headquarters ahead of them calling “Baby in the base!”

“That will get them in here for sure,” Laurel says to Felicity, who looks vaguely alarmed that a teenager has absconded with her child. “Don’t worry. She’s a good kid.”

“What’s this about parent teacher conferences?”

“Apparently family services is so overwhelmed that they’ll let an ex-addict, disgraced ADA foster kids now. Who knew?”

Felicity looks like she’s going to say something, but Laurel leads the way into the kitchen. The team crowds in faster than lasagna day. Laurel makes the introductions, and isn’t surprised when the team immediately latches onto Felicity. She’s always been a superhero magnet.

Alex steps over as Felicity and Babs break into the technobabble like they’re lifelong friends. “So,” she says. “One of the Star City crew shows up and you’re not halfway to National City already?”

“Hey, Kara totally needed me that time.” Kara could have handled the invasion, but Laurel had needed to punch something in the face and the invading horde of bug-aliens had been a willing enough scapegoat. Oliver had shown up about three weeks after Laurel had come back from the future, and she’d made herself scarce. Thinking back to that now, though, Laurel looks at the baby and realizes that Oliver may have come because he had news. Her avoiding him would have sent a message across loud and clear. “I left for a reason. I wasn’t ready to see any of them yet.”

“Any of them being Queen or…her?” Alex raises an eyebrow at Felicity gesturing emphatically at Babs.

“Any of them being any of them,” Laurel says. She sighs and relents. “Fine. Either of them.”

“She’s here to ask you to come back.”

“What? No. She’s here because…oh shit,” Laurel says.

Alex gives her a sympathetic look. “You know Diana wants to expand to Star City.”

“Oliver’s not going to like that.”

“Who cares?”

“She would need somebody he’d actually respect. That’s not me.” Laurel keeps an eye on where Steph and Z are playing with Shayna as she figures it’s only a matter of time before Z starts levitating her and Felicity’s not going to like that.

“Diana could beat him into shape for you,” Alex says. “Hell, Kara’d be happy to do it.”

“That’s sweet, but I can’t leave Steph. Not when she’s finally starting to get used to having an adult to depend on.”

* * *

“You have a life here,” Felicity says later when they’re walking home after dinner with the team, which had been as rowdy and rambunctious as Laurel had expected. She hasn’t actually had that much one-on-one time with her friend, as Babs spent the afternoon monopolizing Felicity’s attention and Diana had talked to her through dinner. Laurel had let Jesse kick her ass at darts for most of the evening. “It’s very strange.”

“Is it? I’ve been here over a year.”

“I guess. It’s just that…you’re different.” Felicity hugs her jacket tighter around her frame. “Happier. You smile more.”

“Diana’s influence,” Laurel says. “For a literal Amazon goddess, she’s got a surprisingly juvenile sense of humor.”

“You’d expect her to be, I don’t know, glowy or bigger or something. Something that says ‘I am not a mere mortal.’ Arms aside because _wow_.”

“You should see them with her gauntlets on.”

Felicity shakes her head. “I might start verbal geysering even harder then, so maybe I shouldn’t. But look at you. You hang out with Wonder Woman and Supergirl like it’s no big deal.”

“You hang out with the Green Arrow and the Flash, _Overwatch_ ,” Laurel says, wanting to laugh.

“Yeah, but I’m tech backup. Diana and Z look at you like an equal. And you’ve traveled through _time_.” Felicity shakes her head. “It’s like you leveled up. The Black Canary’s made a real name for herself.”

Laurel folds her arms over her chest because she’s sacrificed practicality for fashion and left her coat at home. “It’s a different atmosphere. Diana’s our leader, but she regards us as equals.”

“Unlike Oliver,” Felicity says, nibbling her bottom lip.

“He’s outlived too many people and so many things that should have killed him. So now he thinks he has to take it on himself.” She’s had time to evaluate the leadership styles of the various vigilante teams. Barry’s such a nice guy, his team are all his friends even if at the end of the day he’ll be the Atlas bearing the world on his back. Oliver’s far more pessimistic outlook is similar, he’s only more open about it. Rip shouldn’t be in charge of anything and his team regularly lets him know that. “That’s his prerogative. But I don’t think I can live with that again. Even though I know that’s what you’re about to ask me to do.”

Felicity sighs. “You saw through me from the start, didn’t you?”

“No, actually.” Laurel pushes her hand through her hair. “I was a little distracted. You have a _baby_. You’re a mother.”

“Yeah, I have to pinch myself regularly about it, too.”

“I knew you were going to be at that stage with Oliver one day.” Which is one of the reasons she left, and she knows it, and Felicity knows it. It hangs awkwardly on the air between them, like the words her torturer had ripped out of her two years before. “But it’s a reality now. You two are parents.”

“We are. I wouldn’t trade her for anything, even though it’s been an interesting path,” Felicity says, smiling. “I didn’t mean for it to be a shock to you. But it turns out maybe it was good I brought her with me because then you didn’t slam the door in my face.”

Laurel stops walking and reaches out, a move that’s more reflex than anything else. She lays her hand on Felicity’s arm. “I wouldn’t,” she says.

“I wasn’t sure. I mean…you left. I get it, I really, really do. I can’t even imagine what I put you through all those months? Years? Like, I didn’t even know, and you must have felt so—”

“Stop,” Laurel says. “I left so you wouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah, that one didn’t pan out well. And since I appear to be blurting out _all_ of the embarrassing subjects I swore to myself I would avoid…” Felicity squeezes her hands together and presses them to her chest, and Laurel lets go of her arm. “Oliver’s and my breakup had nothing to do with you or anything you ever did. So if I can’t feel guilty about you leaving, you’re not allowed to feel guilty about that.”

Laurel raises both eyebrows. She’s wondered since Felicity dropped the bomb that she’s single (a single mother; Donna must be thrilled). But it felt vain to wonder, and asking would have ventured into territory she doesn’t want to cover, ever, if she can avoid it. “Does Oliver feel the same way?”

“Probably not, but from my side, we broke up due to issues, not because of you or anything you said to me that night. _Capisce_?”

“And that’s the team you want me to come back to.”

“ _Need_ you to come back to,” Felicity says as they head up the front walk to Laurel’s building. “You’ve been gone for two years, and I know how much you love Star City. It’s your home. So come home.”

“Just like that?” Laurel unlocks her front door. “I have responsibilities here.”

“Diana thinks you’d be better served in Star City. It’s still a mess, and the Black Canary…she’s a big name now. You could put the fear of god into a lot of criminals if you came back.”

Laurel wishes Diana had talked to her about this first, but Alex was right. Diana can see things a lot of the team can’t. She must know that Laurel sometimes feels homesickness like an actual ache under her breastbone. Star City was where she was born, where she lived. Where she has thought she’d die a thousand times over.

But as much as she would actually love to return home—she misses her father and Thea, Felicity’s single again, Felicity doesn’t hate her, she’s had to squash something that feels like hope far too many times today—her reasons for staying here are more pressing. And currently passed out at her dining room table drooling on a textbook while Shay sleeps in the playpen.

“Please, Laurel,” Felicity says, putting her hand on Laurel’s arm. Laurel swallows hard.

The noise from the front door wakes the baby, and she rolls over, already cooing. Laurel’s grateful for the interruption. “You deal with your kid, I’ll deal with mine?” she asks.

“I…” Felicity visibly swallows and looks down. “Yeah, that sounds fine. I guess that’s an answer, huh?”

Laurel bites her tongue. Otherwise she might say something about how many times she’s dreamed of this moment here, Felicity appearing in her life and asking her to come back. But she looks down at Steph, whose hair mostly obscures her face and the worksheet she was probably supposed to finish for her homework. “I want to,” she says. “You have no idea how much. But there are things I can’t walk away from here.”

“I understand.” But Felicity swallows again and picks up Shay, turning away.

Laurel goes to bed that night feeling like the worst kind of heel.

* * *

In the end her feelings don’t matter because Diana intervenes. The Justice League needs a liaison in Star City and Oliver’s not returning their calls, so Laurel’s headed home. After Steph stalks off in a huff, Babs promises to take the girl in, which they know is empty talk. “At least the schools in Star City are still pretty good,” Laurel says because she understands the look in Steph’s eyes.

On the day she actually moves, she waits at least fifty miles before she taps the blanket in the back seat well. “You going to stay there the whole trip? I got those Flaming Cheetos you love,” is all she says as Steph gapes at her.

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” Steph climbs into the front seat, glowering.

“Babs is shipping your stuff out _and_ I’m enrolling you in my alma mater. Which is a private school. Congratulations,” Laurel says, and Steph spends the next five hundred miles getting her revenge for that by sulking, though she eventually sings along to Taylor Swift with Laurel.

* * *

“So what’s the deal with you and Felicity?” Steph asks as they’re approaching Central City. After two nights of hotels, Laurel’s looking forward to crashing with Iris and Barry. Somebody is guaranteed to cook, and she’s sick of fast food.

“What deal? We were teammates,” Laurel says.

“Uh-huh.” Steph has her feet propped up on the dash and a magazine falling out of her lap. “Just teammates?”

“What are you implying, kid?”

“Just saying, you’ve flirted with, like, _one_ person the entire time I’ve known you and that doesn’t count because Dick flirts with everyone. But this chick from your old team shows up and suddenly it’s all…” Steph makes the worst swoony face Laurel has ever seen. “You totally looked like that.”

“God I hope not. If I do ever actually look like that, you should put me out of my misery and shoot me.”

“Deal,” Steph says cheerfully.

Laurel taps her nails on the wheel. They’re purple because she let Steph paint them after their vending machine raid the night before. As much as she’d like to lie, secrets have an awful way of combusting in Star City. “Felicity’s the reason I left,” she says.

“Holy shit, really?”

Laurel levels a look at her.

“Crap,” Steph says. “I meant crap. But _really_? Is she, like, an ex-girlfriend that broke your heart?”

“Not an ex. Not even an almost. I…had a thing for her, when I was on the Green Arrow’s team. Which was a problem because she was in love with said Green Arrow.” Laurel grimaces. “Who is my ex.”

“Holy sh— _crap_. You dated the Green Arrow?”

“Before he was the Arrow. He also dated my sister.” She’ll stick to the nicer version of the story for everyone’s sake. “And he’s Shayna’s father.”

“Is there anybody on the team he hasn’t slept with?”

“Speedy.” Laurel pauses. “She’s his sister.”

“Wait, wait, hold up, explain to me how this all works.”

It takes some time to unravel all the layers. By the time she gets to Oliver and Felicity’s engagement, Steph’s jaw is swinging in the breeze. “How many people are there in Star City?”

“About six hundred thousand, why?”

“You guys couldn’t have dated any of, I don’t know, _those_ people?”

“Good question.” Laurel taps her nails again. “I would have given anything to have fallen in love with one of those people and not Felicity. I’m only telling you this because it might come up from one of the others, got it?”

“Got it. In love with your ex’s girl. That had to be awkward for everybody.”

“Nobody knew. Until something happened—and I’m not going to go into that, so don’t ask—and then everybody knew. I didn’t want to make things weird for Felicity since she was completely head over heels for Oliver, so I left. And now I’m coming back.”

“Because _Felicity_ asked you to.”

“And Diana ordered it.”

“Pshaw, Di’s a softie. She’d change her mind if you asked her.”

“I miss Star City. It’s not as great as it was when I was a kid, but it’s home.” Laurel shifts in her seat to get more comfortable. “I’ll take you to a Raptors game and show you where I used to hang out when I was a kid.”

“Are we staying with Felicity and Shayna?”

“Nope.”

“Aw.”

“What is that face?” Laurel asks, squinting at her.

“I just…you clearly still love her, and you’re coming back because she asked you to.”

“For the good of the team.”

“Still counts as romantic. Plus, if you sweep her off her feet, I’ll get a baby sister, sort of.”

Laurel rolls her eyes because _there’s_ a reality that’ll never happen. “I’m coming back to help Oliver’s team out, not because of some feelings I left behind two years ago. But the good news is that by coming with me, you _are_ getting a new family member.”

“I am?” Steph looks confused. “Who?”

* * *

“You didn’t tell me you were bringin’ a kid,” Quentin says after Laurel’s hugged him and held on tight. “She’s a little young for a vigilante.”

“She’s not one.”

Steph pouts.

“Yet,” Laurel says, and Steph brightens. “We can share the guest bedroom. I don’t plan to be in your hair long. Not that you have much left.” He’s back to the buzzcut, which always makes her smile.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a real comedian. What’s your name, kid?”

“Stephanie. Who are you?”

“Instead of a baby sister, you get an adoptive grandpa. This is my dad, Captain Quentin Lance,” Laurel says, throwing an arm around Steph’s shoulders. “Don’t you feel lucky? Let’s go get our bags out of the car. Whatever Dad cooked smells delicious.”

Later that night, after Steph has passed out, snoring and taking up more than her share of the bed—which Laurel will have to fight her over—Laurel stands at the window and looks out at the lights of her city for the first time in two years. For better or for worse, she’s back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Two**

Thea waits a whole twelve hours to come barreling in, crashing into her with a vise-grip that squeezes the air from her lungs. “Thank god you’re home, we’ll _finally_ outnumber the testosterone on the team again, you have no idea how much I missed you,” she says in a rush that’s almost Felicity-like in its speed. Her hair’s shorter, with a cute spiky undercut and red streaks that match her armor. “Never leave me again, you make Ollie so much more tolerable.”

“I missed you, too,” Laurel says, laughing and holding on. She tugs at a lock of Thea’s hair. “What is this, though?”

“Shut up, I’m cute and you know it.” Thea bounces back and cranes her neck to look around. “Felicity said you’ve got, like, a new project. Where is she? Because I don’t know how I feel about having competition.”

“You’ll always be my first project.” Laurel elbows her even though she doesn’t regard Thea as a foster case, not the way Steph is. “Dad took her grocery shopping. She’s going to talk him into junk food that he shouldn’t be eating with his heart, of course.”

“You can nag him about that later. Come on, I want to hear all about what it’s like to work for _Wonder Woman_ and all those other, cooler people you left us for.”

“Milkshakes?” Laurel asks.

“Duh.”

She texts Steph that she’s going out and they head to their favorite diner, not far from their old place. Steph’s going to be mad that she missed out on milkshakes with Speedy, but Laurel’s pretty sure there will be many opportunities for that in the future. Thea catches her up on life in Star City and drags her to the newest lair—in the SmoakTech building—because “We _have_ to spar, I need to kick the ass of the woman who kicked Supergirl’s ass.” She’s giddy as they strip down to yoga pants and sports bras, stretching out her arms and cracking jokes. There’s a long-healed scar running along her hip that wasn’t there when Laurel left.

Laurel feels Thea’s eyes linger on the three vertical scrapes up her own ribcage. “Aliens,” she says.

“Sure. Aliens.”

“You get used to it quick when your team leader’s bulletproof. I’ll give you first hit.”

Thea rushes her. Laurel puts her down on her back, hops out of the way of Thea’s leg-sweep, and in twenty seconds has her friend in a headlock. She blows in Thea’s ear. “You’re still fast.”

“Ow, ow, what the hell?” Thea squirms out of the headlock and jumps back, eyeing her.

“I had a good breakfast.”

“I’ll say.” Thea feints and tries to go for Laurel’s left side, where she used to be vulnerable.

Laurel has her on the floor again in three moves.

This time, she ruffles Thea’s hair and receives an annoyed grunt for her trouble. “What was in that breakfast?” Thea asks.

Two years of having to keep up with literal aliens and time travelers, Laurel thinks, but she tilts her head. “Did you not get enough protein this morning, Speedy?”

“And you’re gonna be smug about it, too,” Thea says, grumbling as she swipes her hand down the bottom of her sneaker. “This is awful. You’re secretly metahuman now, aren’t you?”

“I had access to a supercomputer with millennia of fighting experience stored in her memory banks and plenty of time to study.” Laurel tosses Thea a staff and grabs her tonfa from the shelf. She’s amazed they still have it, but she really shouldn’t be. “Gideon’s a very patient teacher. And so’s Alex.”

“Not Supergirl?”

“Kara’s a terrible fighter, actually. But she tries.” Laurel clacks her tonfa against her thigh. “You wanna go first?”

“No,” Thea says, snorting, but she lunges anyway.

The first real hit Thea scores comes twenty minutes later, and it’s only because Laurel hears the click of heels on pavement and hesitates for a millisecond too long, allowing Thea’s kick to land. She falls, pivots, and sweeps Thea’s legs out from under her. By the time Felicity rounds the corner, Laurel is sitting on Thea’s back as the latter groans into the mat and the former inspects her nails for any chips.

“Uh.” Felicity stops short. She’s got Shayna asleep in her little sling. Her eyes zero in on Laurel’s abs, and Laurel gets to watch her friend’s brain restart. She stammers, which is as cute as Laurel remembers. Also very flattering, even if Laurel suddenly feels exposed without her shirt. “You’re back. Hi. Wow. Uh, what’s happening here?”

“I’m getting schooled,” Thea says. “She can go away now. I’ve decided I don’t miss her.”

“Aw, Speedy, don’t be like that.” Laurel tugs on the red lock of hair and Thea grumbles wordlessly at the abuse. “This is me showing you nothing but love.”

“This is you thoroughly kicking my ass. Did you know she got replaced by a ninja while she was in the future, Felicity? It’s not fair.”

“She looks the same to me,” Felicity says, and Laurel can’t stop the smile.

“Uncle,” Thea says, and Laurel hops to her feet and helps her up. “I can’t do this anymore. This is too humiliating. Look at you, you’re barely even sweating. You could at least pretend kicking my ass took effort.”

“Sassing you did take effort, if it makes you feel better.”

“Amazingly, it doesn’t.” Thea gives her a half-hearted glare and steps over to Felicity, ducking a little to peer at Shayna. “Gosh, she’s even prettier today. Gonna open those baby blues for me, Shay-Shay?”

“Oh, please don’t wake her up, she was so fussy all night.” But the baby begins to mewl piteously, which makes Felicity sigh. She starts unwrapping the sling, and passes Shay over. “Now you’ve done it. You know what? Time for some quality aunt-niece time. Enjoy.”

Thea rocks the baby and raises an eyebrow at Laurel after Felicity’s headed over to the computer bank to deal with something beeping. “Felicity shows up and _that’s_ when you slow down enough for me to hit you? That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Shut up,” Laurel says.

“Guess that answers the question about whether or not the feelings are still there.”

“Does it matter? I came back because the team needed me,” Laurel says.

“Sure you did. I hear my phone, do you mind?” Thea doesn’t wait for confirmation: she holds Shay out, giving Laurel no choice but to take the baby from her.

Shay takes one look at the stranger holding her and starts wailing.

“Yeah, I know how you feel. It’s okay, shh, it’s okay,” Laurel says, murmuring. She hasn’t really had much exposure to babies since her high school babysitting days, but the basics are still there. Shay’s sobs die down to hiccups as Laurel holds her, swaying. The baby must be pretty used to scantily clothed people holding her—no surprise with this group—for she calms pretty quickly. When she falls asleep, she makes tiny wheezing sounds that have Laurel smiling.

It gives her a chance to really look at the baby. She can see traces of her friends: Oliver’s ears, Felicity’s jawline, Thea’s eyebrows. The thoughtful frown is pure Smoak though. Laurel still can’t believe she’s real, but she can’t deny that Shayna Smoak-Queen is probably the cutest baby she’s ever seen.

“Well, there’s a miracle for you,” Felicity says, approaching without her heels. “She has literally been fussing for the past twenty-four hours.”

“The Black Canary is a very soothing presence, I’ll have you know. Though I figure it’s Pavlovian at this point. Sweaty, shirtless people, probably knocks her right out.”

Felicity’s eyes flick down to Laurel’s torso. “We never suffer from a lack of those around here. Not that I’m complaining. About any of them, not just you, and oh god, that sounded like a come on, it really wasn’t.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just—I don’t want things to be weird—”

“They’re not weird,” Laurel says.

“Saying something doesn’t automatically make it true.”

“Are you trying to argue with me? Not fair. I live for arguing, and I’m holding your sleeping child and can’t indulge in my favorite activity without waking her.”

Felicity’s grin spreads unexpectedly and it’s just as wide and radiant and startling as Laurel remembers. Probably even more, actually. “So you’re saying if I want to win an argument, all I have to do is hand you a sleeping baby?”

Laurel wrinkles her nose at her friend. “I figure you’ve only got two years of that tactic left,” she says, and it’s an ineffectual warning at best.

“Hey, if that means you’re going to be around for that long, I’ll have time to come up with a new tactic.”

Laurel continues to sway and move in place, supporting the baby sleeping against her shoulder. “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

“Good.” Felicity clears her throat, taking a slight step back. Laurel isn’t sure when she’d stepped so close, but the absence feels cold. “We’ve got a crib for her. I think she’ll stay asleep if you want to put her down.”

“I…can I just hold her for a bit? This is peaceful.”

“And Shay the Smoak-Queen has slayed another vigilante,” Felicity says, shaking her head and smiling at her daughter. “She’s like catnip to you guys. You all melt around her.”

“She gets it from you,” Laurel says and Felicity looks up sharply. Laurel doesn’t back away from the truth, though. Everybody loves Felicity. She’s been the beacon in the darkness for all of them for years. She relents with a small smile. “If you want to get some work done, I’ll keep you company. Dad’s bonding with Steph and I could stand to avoid responsibilities for a little longer.”

“Sounds good. Did Thea give you the tour yet?”

“Actually, no.”

“You’re going to love what we’ve done with the place,” Felicity says.

* * *

As luck would have it, the first time she sees Oliver again, they’re both armored and masked. She gets the call during dinner and gives her dad a kiss on the side of the head, tells Steph not to wait up and to leave her some of the bed tonight please, and jogs off to don her gear. Laurel doesn’t hesitate, leaping into the mess of smoke and fury and bullets after Thea. Felicity’s backup is much different from Oracle’s, as she reacts with emotion rather than the veteran discipline and sarcasm Babs always displays. Laurel’s missed “Ooh! Nice one!” being hissed in her ear when she body-slams an opponent into the wall.

Another fighter approaches from behind. Laurel tightens her grip on her tonfa, pretending not to hear him. Why this one wants to kill her up close, she doesn’t know, but she’ll use that to her advantage to get the upper hand on him.

Until he falls, a taser arrow sticking out of his back.

“Sloppy,” Oliver says, voice gravelly through the changer.

Laurel rolls her eyes because of course that’s how he’ll greet her. “I knew he was there,” she says, tucking her weapon into its holster. “But thanks for the assist, Arrow.”

“Canary.” He inclines his head. The corners of his lips tilt up. “Looking older, I see.”

She laughs. “Oh, shut up. I wasn’t gone that long.”

Diggle’s voice breaks in over their earpieces. “Canary, you’re still in black, right?”

“It never goes out of style.”

“Then who invited team purple?”

Laurel curses under her breath, hoping against hope that her gut instinct is wrong, and races for the nearest ledge. She surveys the fight taking place below her, groans, and shoots out her belaying cord. “I’m on it,” she says as she hits the ground running, sprinting across the courtyard to provide backup.

The woman in purple is holding her own, even though she’s outmatched in size, strength, and reach. She’s quick, ducking under the thug’s swinging fists and bashing back at him with her spiked gauntlets. Laurel sees her life flash before her eyes as the man’s fist hurtles toward the girl’s face, but she ducks easily out of the way and flings a metal boomerang at his face. Laurel launches herself. She smashes him in the back of the head with her nightstick and when he staggers forward, puts him in a chokehold.

He hits the ground like a sack of wet cement.

“Cool!” Steph beams wide in spite of a split lip. “That was _epic_.”

Laurel wants to strangle her. As it is, she grabs her by the upper arm and only barely refrains from shaking her. “What the _hell_ are you thinking? You’re supposed to be at home.”

“But you said—it’s a new city and they need help—”

“Which _I_ will provide because that is my job. Your job is school.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steph can’t stop smiling. “I kicked his ass, though. Did you see?”

“Ahem.”

The throat clearing behind her makes Laurel want to groan. She doesn’t have time for this, but sure enough when she turns, all three of them are there. Oliver has his arms at his sides, but Diggle looks vaguely disapproving even through the mask, his massive arms folded over his chest. “Friend of yours?” Oliver asks Laurel, looking at Steph.

“Holy sh—crap!” Steph pushes her cowl back so she can gape better. “You’re the Green Arrow!”

Laurel can already feel a migraine coming on when Oliver looks from Steph to her. “You brought a child to a fight?” he asks.

“Steph’s there?” Felicity asks over their earpieces. “Where did she get armor?”

“That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it? I didn’t bring her, she sneaked in _against my orders_ and put herself in danger.” This finally seems to sink in for Steph; she belatedly hunches. “Is everything handled here? I need to get her back to my dad.”

“She wants to be on the team? She can come to the briefing,” Oliver says.

“She’s not old enough, and that’s not your call to make.”

But somehow a very subdued Steph follows her into the lair, where Felicity’s waiting for them. Diggle and Thea, seeing the writing on the wall, have already cried off. Laurel can feel Oliver’s disapproval coming off him in waves. It would piss her off, but she’s got other things to worry about. Where the hell did Steph get that armor and is it really child abuse if locking your ward in a dungeon prevents her from going out and facing on fully armed men and getting her idiot neck broken?

“So,” Oliver says, shoving back his hood, “exactly how old do you have to be to join Diana’s team, again?”

“She’s not on Diana’s team,” Laurel says. 

Steph’s chin goes up, even though she’s clearly trying not to gawk at all of the cool things around her. Felicity keeps this place loaded up with more gadgets than even Babs does. “I should be. I held my own.”

“ _Not_ the point,” Laurel says.

“You let a teenager come into battle with you?” Oliver asks. “What kind of team does Diana run anyway?”

“Oliver,” Felicity says, frowning at him.

“No, I want to know.”

“Why do you have such a problem with Diana’s team?” Steph asks, looking between Laurel and Oliver. “She’s cool. You’re being super judgey right now.”

“Stephanie,” Laurel says.

“But he is.”

“Maybe I don’t like that a member of that team is now in my city, calling the shots and working with us, and making amateur errors,” Oliver says. There it is, Laurel thinks. She’s known this would be Oliver’s argument from the start. “That kind of divided loyalty is bound to get people killed.”

“Do me a favor,” Laurel says, putting her hand on Steph’s shoulder before the girl can do something rash like punch Oliver in the face. “Go play with Shayna. I need to talk to Oliver.”

“But—”

“ _Now_ ,” Laurel says, and Steph scowls but heads down the hall to the little bedroom where they keep a crib.

The minute Laurel knows she’s out of earshot, she turns and looks at Oliver. Like Felicity, he’s older, a little more careworn. He has a new scar bisecting his left cheek. “You want to disrespect me and belittle me, that’s fine,” she says. “Do that all you like, I stopped giving a damn years ago. But not in front of her. In front of her you _will_ treat me fairly and you _will_ be civil. Do you understand me?”

Felicity rises out of her seat and folds her arms over her chest. “Actually, he should be civil to you all the time.”

Oliver turns his glare from Felicity to Laurel. “You let a childcome to a fight—”

“She’s sixteen and I didn’t _let_ her do anything. She’s headstrong, which, if you knew what she’s survived to get this far in life, is actually a good thing. Even if right now I want to throttle her.” Laurel rubs her temple. “Just say what this really’s about. I see three choices. You’re mad about what I confessed while under truth serum, you’re mad at me for leaving, or you’re mad because you think Diana feels you’re falling down on the job. Which is it? I have a kid to get home, and don’t have a lot of time, so let’s just get it all out in the open quickly, if we can.”

“I’m mad because I have somebody protecting _my_ city who’s on the payroll for somebody else.”

“My loyalty is to the people of this city,” Laurel says. “I get a paycheck from the Justice League, but what the hell do you expect? It’s not like I can waltz right in and take my old job back!”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Brenton Rolf’s,” Felicity says, breaking in. “Don’t you _dare_ , Oliver.”

Laurel fights away the sick feeling in her throat at the name and turns away to collect herself.

“You could have stayed and fixed it,” Oliver says. So that’s it, Laurel realizes. He’s mad at her for leaving.

“Not this time,” Laurel says. “And it’s not like I left you without resources. You had Mari on call, and Barry, you’ve got Thea and Dig. And Felicity, which is like five people in one. I needed to leave, and I’m sorry you were hurt by it, I really am. But I’m back now, and I’d really like to be a part of this team. If you can’t accept that, fine. I know enough to operate independently. But I’d rather be with my friends.”

“I don’t have time to watch your back in the field because you’re making the same mistakes you made two years ago,” Oliver says, scowling.

Laurel gives in to the need to give Felicity an exasperated look, the way they used to when Oliver grew too overbearing. Surprisingly, though, her friend looks thoughtful.

“What if she proves it to you?” Felicity says.

“What?” Oliver asks.

“Yeah, I’m with him on this. What?” Laurel says.

“If she holds her own against you, you agree to shut up about this, you don’t call her sloppy, and you accept the vote the rest of us took to keep her here. She’s on the team, full stop. Should be just like old times, right? You used to spar all the time.”

“We didn’t, actually,” Laurel says, as Oliver rarely wanted to train with her. But she can see the overconfidence that he usually wears when talking about his superior fighting skills—which are actually a matter of extreme luck, strength, and scrappiness rather than good form—and she wonders. Does Felicity know? Did Babs share footage with her?

Felicity raises her eyebrow just a fraction. Ah, so she knows.

“You should get Steph,” Laurel says to Felicity. “She’ll want to see this.”

Five minutes later, she faces Oliver across the same mat where she took down his sister hours before. He picks up one of her nightsticks and swings it around, testing the weight. “Thought I’d give you the advantage,” he says.

“I don’t need it,” Laurel says, but she picks up her nightstick.

“I’ll go easy on you.”

“Don’t bother. There’s no way you’ll ever be able to hit as hard as Kara does, so I’m not worried.”

Oliver frowns at the insult and strikes first, like she expects. Part of her exorcism of Oliver—as Sara called it—involved pulling up analyses of the Green Arrow fighting style and studying it until her eyes burned. “Why do you let him have such hold over you?” Nyssa asked her one night in 2140, while they’d stared at the constellations.

“Because everything that’s derailed in my life has something to do with him.”

“The fact that you view your life as a derailment is precisely why you need to let him go.”

She hadn’t been able to then, not quite yet, but studying Gideon’s records on him gives her an edge. At the last possible second, she dodges, mercilessly slams the nightstick onto his fingers, and uses his surprise and pain to knock the weapon away.

For a second, shock reigns in his eyes. He regroups, driving in and hoping to use his superior size and strength against her. She’s ready for that, too.

Ten seconds later, Oliver grits his teeth and stares down at the mat because Laurel has him in an arm-lock that Diana was all too happy to teach her. When he tries to struggle, Laurel lazily applies pressure with her left knee, which has to be excruciating for him.

At the edge of the mat, Steph is bouncing and Felicity looks torn between worry and delight.

Finally, Oliver nods. Laurel lets him go. When he looks up, there’s an assessing light in his eyes.

“Proof enough for you?” Laurel asks.

“Welcome back.” Oliver sighs and rubs his arm. He turns to Steph and plucks Shay out of her arms, jiggling the baby. “As for you: no going into the field until you’re eighteen.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Steph says, giving him a very sarcastic salute.

Oliver rolls his eyes at both of them as he carries his daughter away.

“Thanks for having my back,” Laurel says to Felicity.

Her friend smiles back at her. “Always.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Three**

It’s useless to ground Steph, but Laurel does it anyway. The mystery of where she got the armor is solved by a phone call to Babs, who’s peeved that an old set of hers walked off. Privately, they agree that Steph is never going to stay out of the field, so Laurel hides the armor. She would rather have some measure of protection around because she knows very little will stop her charge.

Steph sulks for a day, practically a record for her.

“How come Oliver didn’t know what a good fighter you are?” she asks as she follows Laurel into the third open house.

“Because he knew me when I was just starting out. I haven’t been fighting that long, comparatively. I just…had access to better teachers.” She’d been a non-metahuman on a team full of magicians, Amazon goddesses, superpowered aliens, and Alex Danvers. She’d had to step up her game, and she’d had to do so quickly. If her law skills weren’t useful anymore, she’d needed something else in her life. Laurel’s aware that her personality and intensity is equivalent to a magnifying glass placed under a sunbeam, but that laser-precise focus has only driven her forward and kept her alive. She knows how to utilize it.

“Why’s he such a dick?” Steph asks.

“Stephanie.”

“No, I mean it. He’s a dick.”

“I’m not disagreeing, I just don’t want you using that word.”

“So you _do_ think he’s a dick,” Steph says, and Laurel decides to give up the ghost on the language. Hopefully Steph’s smart enough not to use it in front of her new teachers.

She sighs as they head up the front walk to the open house. “Oliver can be challenging to work with because he spent a long time learning to survive under the worst conditions known to mankind, and he saw a lot of people die. He would rather scare somebody away to where it’s safer and have them hate him than let them get hurt.”

“But you’re the Black Canary.”

“To him, I’m Laurel first. It clouds his judgment.” It’s how she knows leaving was the best choice, no matter how much she missed her friends and her home. Getting out from underneath Oliver’s shadow let her find her own light.

Laurel folds her arm over her chest and looks around the front yard. “What do you think of this place?”

“It’s the suburbs.”

“It’s cute, and it has a yard, which would be good for a dog.”

Steph swivels. “My attention, you have it.”

* * *

“Steph says you’re getting a dog?” Felicity asks later when Laurel walks into the base.

Laurel raises an eyebrow. “You talked to her?”

“She has a Twitter. Did you not know about this? If not, you should really talk to her about it because she likes posting pictures of you where you’re talking. She’s been tagging them derpface.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to Shay’s teenage years?” Laurel says. “This is your future. Look upon it and gaze long into this abyss.”

“Nietzsche and teenage angst, nice.” Felicity hums appreciatively and turns back to her screen. “She liked the fourth house you looked at and she’s been retweeting dog pics from Cute Emergency all day.”

“Perfect, my evil plan is working.” Laurel hangs up her purse in her locker and pulls out her boxing gloves. “I figure if I get a dog—something to look after while I’m patrolling—that cuts down her chances of running out and trying to fight.”

“And you really think that’s going to work?”

“It’s either that or shackles, and Babs taught her how to pick locks. Thanks for keeping an eye on her online.”

“Of course.”

“Actually, can you do me a favor and lock her phone so she can only make calls or text me? She’s supposed to be grounded.”

“With pleasure.”

Laurel peels her shirt off and grabs a tank top. “Where’s Shay?”

“Daycare. Oliver’s picking her up today. Coparenting in the twenty-first century, woo.” Felicity thrusts her fist over her head. “I got tired of being where members of the board, assistants, and Curtis can find me, so I came down here to get some work done in peace.”

“Oh. Am I intruding? I can go to the gym.”

“Actually, this place feels weird if there’s not somebody beating the crap out of something or dangling from a really high ledge. It’ll be comforting to have somebody in here during daytime hours again. Now that Oliver’s doing mayoral things and John’s over at ARGUS half the time, it gets a little spooky.”

Laurel kicks off her shoes and trades her jeans for a pair of yoga pants. “In that case, I’m glad to be of service.”

She stretches out and listens to Felicity muttering and clicking away at the keyboard. Babs keeps her computer equipment separate from the gym back at the Clock Tower, mostly because Diana and Kara had a tendency to throw each other through things, so the sound’s actually something Laurel’s missed as she warms up and takes a few experimental jabs at the heavy bag. It’s peaceful.

Or maybe that’s Felicity herself.

“You should know Oliver was on YouTube this morning when I got here,” Felicity says as Laurel works through combinations at the heavy bag. “He was looking at that arm-lock you used.”

“Oh, I bet he was thrilled you caught him. I wasn’t trying to injure his pride.” Laurel switches combos. “I studied all the assessments of his fighting style that Gideon had, so I just had a tiny advantage.”

A line appears between Felicity’s eyebrows as she frowns. “Why?”

“I was mad and wanted to kick his ass someday, just in case. Ironically, by the time I learned how, I’d gotten over the being mad thing.” Laurel lets out a little laugh and slams her gloves together, jumping in place because her blood is starting to pump. She cracks her shoulder and attacks the bag again. “Came in handy, though. What I want to know is how _you_ knew I could do that.”

“YouTube. There is so much shaky phone footage of you kicking ass, it’s amazing.”

“Are you serious?”

Felicity laughs. “I have a playlist. Most of these groups are devoted to what they call the heavy hitters, but wow, you have some fans. Very dedicated fans. They make top ten lists that are weirdly specific. Top ten body slams. Top ten body slams against walls. Top ten epic moments—their favorite is the tie thing.”

Laurel steps back. “The…what?”

“Do you not remember? Check this out.” Felicity hits a few keys so that a shaky, blurry video starts playing on the screen. Laurel recognizes the lobby of National City Loan and Trust and frowns as she sees a figure in black dart in at a man in a business suit holding a gun. On the screen, the Black Canary knocks the gun from the man’s hand with a swift elbow to the wrist and grabs his tie to use the man as ballast as she leaps into a roundhouse kick that knocks out the man’s associate. The man falls forward, but Laurel still has his tie in hand, which she completely wraps around his face as she sticks her landing behind him. He falls, his body flipping over as she yanks on the tie to spin him around.

She’d mostly been concerned about getting him out of the way so Alex could take out the sniper in peace, but six months later, she can’t deny that it looks really cool.

“See?” Felicity says. “That one usually makes top ten lists, with good reason.”

When she brings it up to Steph while reheating leftovers for dinner, Steph laughs for a full five minutes. “Did you really not know? I could’ve been showing you this stuff for months. There are videos where they, like, use cutesy music and try to make it seem like you’re in love with people.”

Laurel wrinkles her nose. “Really? Anybody cute?”

“Dick, so not really.”

“Uh-huh, you totally think he’s cute.”

“Whatever,” Steph says. 

Laurel’s conceded use of her laptop so that she can look at Petfinder. When Steph squeaks, Laurel leans over to see the laptop screen. “Seriously? That?”

“He’s so cute!”

“That looks like the unfortunate mating of a rabbit and a pig.”

“So he’s ugly, but he’s so ugly he’s cute.” With Felicity-like speed, Steph types away at the computer and sends a message whizzing off into the ether. “I sent them an email. Can we go tomorrow?”

He really is an unfortunate-looking dog, Laurel thinks, looking at the flat face on the screen in front of Steph. But her foster kid is actually bouncing in place, so… “Fine. After my meeting with the bank, maybe.”

One day later, she has a mortgage, a kid, and a dog—the last was a foregone conclusion even before they pulled up to the shelter, but the dog had taken one look at Steph and had galumphed right over in his odd-looking terrier body to try and lick every inch of her face, well, that really sealed the deal. Even with the unfortunately bland name.

“Calling him Spot is lazy,” Steph had insisted.

“Fine. What do you want to call him instead?”

“They said he’s a French Bulldog, so…” Steph had thought about it, and a wide grin had spread over her face. “We should totally call him Lafayette.”

Laurel had laughed. “Give it up for Star City’s favorite fighting Frenchie?” she’d asked.

“And he’s mostly white, so we can call him Yeti for short. Please? Please, please, please.”

“Fine.”

She looks at the paperwork from the bank and from the realtor, decides that can be a tomorrow thing, and spends the rest of the night texting pictures of Steph and Yeti to Felicity and Thea instead.

Even Oliver agrees that the dog is cute. Begrudgingly, she imagines, but it’s a start.

* * *

The glorious thing about teammates is using big, strong men unabashedly to carry the furniture into the new house. Felicity and Thea come along, too. Felicity tries to claim it’s in a supervisory capacity and that her main job is to hold the baby. With any other team, Laurel imagines that might work, but here the baby gets passed around between so many people that by the end of the morning, Felicity’s helping carry in boxes and unpacking the kitchen. Laurel thanks all of her movers with pizza and beer, but she doesn’t actually have enough furniture for everyone yet, so they sit on the floor with Shayna and tell Steph far too much about the embarrassing things Laurel has done.

Steph, for all that she gives Laurel a hard time, adamantly refuses to believe most of it. “You’re making this up,” she insists around a slice of pepperoni. Yeti snores away in her lap, no doubt exhausted from a long day of getting underfoot and darting away with a doggie laugh whenever anybody tries to pet him. “She’s the _Black Canary_ , she’s the greatest fighter ever.”

“No, I did kind of fall off that van,” Laurel says, sighing at Diggle for telling that story, even though she’s smiling. “I made a pretty great recovery, though.”

“Sure,” he says.

“Careful,” Thea says. “She’s already kicked my ass and Ollie’s, one more and she gets the whole set.”

“I’ll risk it,” Diggle says, and Laurel sticks her tongue out at him.

When Shay crawls over to her, Laurel scoops her up and tosses her, making nonsense noises. Shay giggles with delight. Her tiny Converse sneakers kick against Laurel’s legs when she holds her up and jiggles her.

“She’s picked a new favorite now,” Thea says, helping herself to a new slice from the box next to her. “Makes sense, though. Team mom and all.”

“What?” Laurel asks, leaning around Shay to look at her former roommate. Everybody’s nodding, even Steph. “What are you talking about?”

“You are,” Felicity says. “You used to pack lunch for everybody on road trips and all-nighters, remember? Like, serious lunches, too, not those dinky lunchables things. Sometimes I dream about them.”

“They were pretty great,” Oliver says. “Which always amused me because the only person that’s a worse cook on this planet than you is Felicity.”

“Hey,” Laurel and Felicity say as one, and Oliver grins, surprisingly carefree for once. He seems like he’s starting to get over the hurt feelings that came from Laurel’s departure, which doesn’t surprise her. Oliver lets things fester, but once they’re exposed to open air, there’s a strong chance he’ll course-correct.

“There’s a worse cook than Laurel?” Steph asks, looking horrified.

“In my defense, I am a genius in every other aspect of my life,” Felicity says.

Shay tips forward and puts her hands on Laurel’s cheeks. Obligingly, Laurel puffs them out, and the baby shrieks, thrilled with this new game.

“Yup,” Steph says. “Team mom.”

She does eventually have to give the baby back as her friends head out. When it’s only Steph, Yeti, and her left, she puts the pizza boxes next to the trash can. Steph cuddles the dog before putting him on the couch and following Laurel, looking thoughtful. “Felicity totally likes you back,” she says.

“That’s how she acts with everyone, but nice try.”

“I thought _you_ being all swoony was bad, but it turns out she’s way worse than you are.”

“No, really.” Laurel opens the refrigerator and makes a face. At least Thea was nice enough to take the beer with her, but it makes her refrigerator seem even more bare. “That’s just how Felicity is.”

“Sure,” Steph says, drawing out the word. “I’ll trade shadowing you in the field for free babysitting if you ever get over this denial and ask her out already.”

“First of all, no, and secondly you need to go back to school if you think that’s the definition of ‘free.’”

Steph lets out the longest sigh to date. “Hypothetically, what _would_ it take for you to agree to let me go into the field with you?”

Laurel puts her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Why are you in such a rush to grow up and join me out there? It’s not a life I would pick for anybody. You’ve got opportunities here. Go to school, make friends. Be a teenager. Take this chance while you’ve got it.”

Steph frowns. Laurel knows she never really had a chance to be a kid, not the way she and Sara had growing up in the suburbs and driving their parents to distraction. Her background is nothing but familial tragedy. Maybe it’s too late to ask her to try now, but all Laurel can see when she looks at Steph is that she’s so painfully young. And so painfully like Sara could be at the same age.

“I don’t need that stuff,” Steph says. “I could be on the team. Look at you guys, you’re all great friends.”

“You’re telling me you really want to hang out with a bunch of old people? We take fiber supplements, for god’s sake.”

“Everybody my age is really young.”

Laurel pulls her into a hug and holds on until Steph relaxes. “Just do me a favor and try. That’s all I’m asking.”

“If I do that, can I go into the field with you?”

“No, but you can train with me. After homework. Got it?”

“I’ll take it,” Steph says.

* * *

Laurel trots down into the base with Yeti clicking at her heels. “First day of school,” she says by way of greeting. “Now begins the countdown to see if she’ll stay there. Have we got an over-under on that yet?”

“Is the gambling remark a dig at the fact that I’m from Vegas?” Felicity asks.

“No?” Laurel says, and really stops to take a look at her friend. The dark circles are so strong that even Felicity can’t hide them. She’s also less put together than usual, in an ancient MIT hoodie and actual jeans, which Laurel never sees during the work day. Laurel shrugs and keeps her voice light. “This team bets on everything.”

“Which you started.”

“In my defense, winning that five bucks off of Oliver for making that jump was a sweet, sweet victory.” She kept the bill framed in the gym at the Clock Tower, but it’s probably a little too crass for this place. She’ll put it in her new office/guest bedroom at home instead.

Yeti flops down on the little bed by the stairs with a doggie sigh. Laurel doesn’t approach Felicity like a wounded animal, though she wants to. There’s a fifty/fifty chance the thing to do is simply to leave her alone to her own devices until the grumpy spell passes. Laurel hops up on the space on the desk that Felicity leaves open so various teammates can sit there, reaches out, and squeezes her friend’s shoulder silently.

Felicity deflates and rests her cheek against Laurel’s hand, which sends a pang through her.

“Rough night, huh?”

“You know that point when you’re so tired you can’t feel your tongue? Like you know it’s there, but you just can’t feel it?”

“I went to law school, remember?”

Felicity closes her eyes and doesn’t move. She’s probably as touch-starved as Laurel feels sometimes, really, if she and Oliver broke up a year and a half before. “Shay’s teething and all the blogs I’ve read are written by these women who have it so together and are offering up all of these cheerful remedies, while me, I had a complete breakdown this morning because I thought I was out of milk but it was really just stuck there behind the kale I’m never going to eat—why do I even _have_ kale?—and it was four a.m. and she was just _crying_ and you could tell she was even more tired than I was and hurting and I couldn’t make it stop, and _argh_.”

“Poor thing.”

“Thank you for your pity.”

“Sympathy, thank you,” Laurel says, giving in and petting Felicity’s hair with her free hand. “Did either of you manage to sleep at all?”

“Me, no. She’s back in her crib, passed out.” Felicity pulls away and rubs at her eyes, knocking her glasses askew. “Whoever said single woman can have it all was talking out of their ass.”

“Probably. Are you working on anything I can help with?”

“Monitoring some channels. It’s not difficult, it’s just tedious.”

“Give me a five minute walkthrough, and then go take a nap.”

“What? No, this is your workout time, you should—”

“Felicity.”

“She’s going to wake up any minute, so it’s useless,” Felicity says, rubbing at her face.

“I work on a team with multiple Queens. I can handle a crying baby. Go take a nap.” Laurel raises her eyebrows when Felicity opens her mouth to protest, and _stares_. It’s a tactic she uses on her father and Steph, and occasionally Sara.

Apparently it works on Felicity, though that may be due to sleep deprivation. “Fine,” Felicity says, “but if you run into problems—”

“Babs is on speed dial for computer stuff, and I’ll wake you if it’s Shay. Talk me through this and then _go_.”

Laurel keeps an eye on the computer for about forty-five minutes before Shayna begins stirring on the baby monitor. Shay has no interest in being put down in her playpen, but she seems to calm to pitiful sobs whenever she’s held, so Laurel calls to update her old team and report in on the situation in Star City, walking Shay back and forth while she whimpers and drools on Laurel’s tank top.

“I have to check,” Babs says as Laurel bounces Shay. They’re crowded around the monitor, faces pushed together as they elbow each other for room. Laurel misses them so much. “But that’s Shayna, right? You haven’t stolen a random baby?”

“I don’t have any free hands, otherwise I’d be flipping you off,” Laurel says.

“In front of a baby?” Z asks, giving the biggest shit-eating grin ever. “Dinah Laurel Lance, I never.”

“That’s enough comments from the peanut gallery. Tell me what’s going on. I want all the gossip.”

By the time Felicity emerges, Shay is out cold and Laurel’s doing push-ups while Yeti snores on. “You got her to go back to sleep?” Felicity asks, gawking.

“Witness the miracles of bourbon,” she says, and smiles as Felicity flicks her braid as she walks by. She rests in the plank position, even though her abs are burning. “She fussed a bit. Diana recommended massaging her gums, so I tried that, got drooled on worse than junior year prom, and she calmed down and went back to sleep.”

“How come it worked for you and not me when I tried last night? Are you a baby whisperer?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“This is just amazing.” Felicity grabs an energy drink out of the fridge and comes back, shaking her head as she looks down at her sleeping daughter. “Miracle worker. Seriously. I could _kiss_ you.”

Laurel’s abs abruptly forget how to function. At least she doesn’t have far to drop, but she’s not sure which stings worse: her pride or her left elbow. She hears Felicity’s gasp and squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds. “Sorry, slipped,” she says as she pushes herself back up. “Very, ah, very slick right there.”

Felicity stares at her in horror. “Oh god. That was really callous of me, I didn’t mean kiss you like _kiss you_ —”

“It’s fine.” Laurel rubs her elbow. Felicity continues to look stricken, so Laurel climbs to her feet and grabs her water bottle. “It was just a phrase, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? Because, um...”

Laurel downs a swallow of water and kind of wishes it were vodka. “Hey, just because I was drugged and truth-serumed, confessed my undying love and devotion to you, and then ran away to the future doesn’t mean this has to be awkward,” she says in a dry voice.

“You underestimate me.” Felicity groans quietly and drops into her chair. “I can make _any_ situation awkward. It’s like my superpower.”

“It’s fine. Besides, it’s not like there’s a manual for these things.” Laurel’s grateful that Yeti chooses that moment to roll over and look around in confusion, a sign that a trip outside is needed. “Babs found some stuff in the data I sent her to look over while you were sleeping, so you should probably check your email. I’m going to take Monsieur Lafayette upstairs.”

When she comes back, considerably calmer (she may have walked the dog a little more slowly than usual), Shay’s awake and Felicity’s rocking the baby while she peers intently at her monitors. “It was nice while it lasted,” Felicity says with a small smile.

Like so many things in her life, Laurel thinks, but she only smiles back as she gets started on her workout. Just because she’s back on a team full of regular humans doesn’t mean she can let herself get sloppy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Four**

Alcoholics Anonymous is a haven.

Laurel doesn’t go to meetings with her father because she knows her presence sometimes makes him uncomfortable. Instead, three times a week she heads to a Methodist church on Simone Boulevard and sits in the freezing basement, drinking cheap coffee. The fact that she’s the Black Canary is something she can’t share even in an anonymous setting, and it’s such a huge part of her recovery, so she never speaks much. But it’s comforting to go. There are familiar faces and new people, and this is another piece of coming home.

It makes her think about what she told Steph, that Oliver sees her as Laurel first. Here is another group where she is Laurel. But she’s Laurel the alcoholic and she’s been sober for one year, eleven months, and three days, and she’s here because she’s accepted her life is unmanageable and she needs to make sense of it.

“Anybody else have something they want to say?” Eileen, who’s leading the meeting, asks the group at large.

Laurel finally gives in to the burning in her throat and introduces herself. She smiles at the “Hi, Laurel,” and takes a breath. Being back home, being around Felicity, has pushed a lot of the demons she’s been merely acknowledging rather than confronting to the surface.

“Two years ago, I was a district attorney, and you expect the most dangerous thing to happen to you would be some yelling in court, but hey, we live in Star City. I made a lot of enemies, just part and parcel of the work. Dangerous enemies, convicted felons, that type of thing. I was two, almost three years sober at this point. About to get my chip. And one of the people I put away, his brother wasn’t real happy with me. So he destroyed that.”

The nights she can’t sleep, she still hears Brenton Rolf’s clinical, mocking voice as he fills the syringe, listing every side-effect the drug will have on Laurel. She still feels helpless and tied to the chair. She still feels Felicity’s horrified gaze on her.

“Wine was my crutch,” she says now. “And pills, can’t forget those. He couldn’t have known that, not from following me to one of these meetings, but he knew one thing. He knew how important sobriety was to me.”

She lets her 6-month chip dig into her palm. It’s old and she’s gone far beyond six months, but it’s also metal and it can stand being battered both by Laurel and the Black Canary.

“And he wrecked that. He grabbed me out of a coffee shop because I had my guard down, and the next thing I know, I’m handcuffed in a van.” She can see some skepticism on the other members’ faces, but she doesn’t care. This is Star City. You’re lucky to survive a trip downtown here.

“They said it was heroin, but it really doesn’t matter. I felt too good, and I was _back_.” She knows not to romanticize the floating, happy, blissful feeling. That doesn’t help any of them. “Perfect revenge, I guess. Three years of sobriety, gone in a blink. And that’s not even the worst part. I wasn’t alone when he grabbed me. Fe—my friend was with me. She’s one of those people. She smiles, the whole room lights up. She laughs, the world becomes a better place. Generous, kind. Funny. Not perfect by long shot, but I love her. I can’t help it.”

_You have a light inside you._

_Gorgeous Laurel._

“She had no idea how I felt because she was with the man that I thought was the love of her life. And I couldn’t compete with that, so I never told her and she never suspected. Until that damn needle went into my arm.” She squeezes her fist around the chip, but the calluses from her tonfa block out most of the pain, so it’s not helpful. “It came tumbling out. And she knew. And he knew. My sobriety was gone, my secret was out, and—this is the best part—this guy got my work to give me a ‘random’ drug test and that was that. No more job.”

She thinks she hears an “Oh my _god_ ” from somewhere in the back.

Laurel puts the chip in her pocket and runs a hand through her hair. “You can’t control what you feel, but when nobody else knew, I could handle it. I had ways to cope with it. Losing everything like that? It was just too much. So I left. I took off, found some work, found some peace. But she found me and asked me to come back. She missed me. I caved so fast it’s almost pathetic.

“Luckily, there’s work for me here and I have other responsibilities. I’m, uh, I’m fostering a kid, a teenager. Her parents abandoned her, and there’s a whole sad history there. She’s great and even though she pretends not to, she needs me. So that stops the cravings to just give in, just have a single glass, because what good am I to her if I’m drunk? And I’m boxing again.” She sees a couple of nods from older members that remember her from before, when she always equated being a vigilante with boxing. Bruises can be explained by accidents in the ring. “I didn’t use after Brenton tried to get me hooked, though it got pretty dark. I’m home, I’ve got my friend back. Things are actually going well at work. I’m half-convinced it’s like a Jenga tower and everything’s going to topple back down, but part of me knows it’s not like that. Getting away let me build a foundation I needed the whole time. So, yeah. That’s where I am now.” She swallows hard. “Thanks for letting me share, I haven’t really told anybody all of that before. Or not, willingly, at any rate.”

It’s human nature to want to know more—not many people have actual kidnapping stories—but Eileen at least seems to understand that Laurel doesn’t really want to get into the details, so she thanks her and asks for the next story. Laurel looks down at her hands, surprised that they’re not shaking. Her coffee’s gone cold, though. Maybe it’s best not to drink it, not with the way her stomach is trying to revolt.

When the meeting’s over, she makes a beeline for Paulie, a crusty old lawyer that’s been attending meetings since ’70s and whom she adores almost more than life itself.

“I think your story’s bullshit,” he says as a greeting. “But nice closing arguments, Counselor.”

Laurel laughs and hugs him. “Cynic. I haven’t seen you. I was worried.”

“Still on the wagon and I haven’t kicked the bucket yet.” Paulie reminds Laurel of Oscar the Grouch. The bushy eyebrows and uncombed hair always add to the effect. He argues that when you’ve been alive as long as he has, he can damn well look like a muppet if he chooses. “At this rate, I’m never leaving this godforsaken piss-poor excuse for a planet.”

“You love it here,” Laurel says. “You’ve got Harry.”

“Old man complains more than the cat.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting Harry and a mirror mixed up?” Laurel asks, as Paulie’s long-time partner is as much of a sweetheart as Paulie is a grump.

“Nobody asked for your sass.”

“Which is why I provide it free, as a service to the community.” Before she left, Laurel would have brought along a precedent she was trying to use in a current case, just to hear Paulie argue against her, but she’s out of practice. “I’m glad to see you, though. Maybe I got hit really hard in the head or something.”

“Ha. You willingly took in a teenager, of course you’re damaged in the head.”

Since that’s Paulie-speak for asking about Steph, Laurel tells him all about her ward. Two minutes after the meeting’s official ending time—they always let out a little early—her phone lights up with texts from Felicity asking her to come in. “I have to go, but talk to Harry and see if you’re free for dinner next week? You could come see the new place. And before you bitch at me, I’ll order food in. No cooking.”

“Apparently there’s a merciful god,” Paulie says, and Laurel laughs. “I assume I’ll have to meet your girlfriend then, too.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. Still just a friend.”

Paulie gives her the look that always makes Laurel glad she never had to face him in a courtroom.

“Don’t you start,” Laurel says. “I really do have to go. Have Harry text me a day next week that works for you, Steph and I are flexible.”

She knows Harry will insist on cooking, likely because Paulie will exaggerate and tell him she’s starving Steph. By the end of the night, Harry will probably consider himself an honorary grandpa, and that Laurel and Paulie will have argued about at least fourteen different landmark cases and complained about judges together. The thought makes her smile as she steps into the lair. Her phone lights up with a text from Harry asking if Tuesday night’s free as she walks into the lair.

“You look happy about something,” Felicity says, swiveling around.

“I have a date,” Laurel says, and Felicity drops her pen. Thea, Oliver, Dig turn to look at her with varying degrees of surprise. “It’s with my foster kid and two gay retired lawyers, but whatever, I’ll take it. What’d I miss?”

“Well,” Thea says, “don’t be too shocked, but somebody’s doing something bad in our city and we need to stop it.”

“Oh, good, something completely new and different for us.”

* * *

Being a Justice League member means she travels more than she expected when Diana first assigned her the job, so she spends a few months rotating between Star City and National City and Detroit, with the occasional stop in Central City. She likes Detroit best, as Mari’s usually up for shopping. Oliver grumbles about it, but when they face an invasion of demons looking for Constantine, Diana sends four Justice League members out and the city barely even gets damaged. It’s the greatest week of Steph’s life because Zatanna offers to keep an eye on her in the field and she gets to punch a couple demons in the face and save a cat. She rides that high for nearly a week.

Laurel’s intentions had been to leave Steph with her father whenever she traveled, but somehow Steph repeatedly winds up crashing in Felicity’s guest bedroom instead. “It makes sense,” Felicity says. “If she stays with me, she gets lair time, and Captain Lance works so much, she’ll run off and try to help the others out. This keeps her out of Oliver’s hair.”

She gets back in the middle of the night from helping the DEO with a rogue alien and goes to Felicity’s to collect her charge and her dog (Steph’s dog). It’s absolutely no surprise that Felicity’s still up.

“This one,” she says, jiggling the wide-eyed and alert Shayna, “is as much of a night owl as her parents, lucky me. Steph passed out hard. Also, you should really have a talk with the school. I’m convinced that her pre-calc teacher is an ape in a trench coat. You can’t have that man educating actual children.”

“I’ll write a strongly worded letter to the school board.” Laurel gives in to the exhaustion and collapses on the couch. “Please tell me you helped her out. I only passed geometry because my teacher was really cute. Numbers go right over my head.”

“You’re in luck because I happen to be a kickass math tutor.” Felicity passes the baby over when Shay reaches both arms out for Laurel. “Want some coffee? Are you even awake enough to drive back?”

“I’m honestly not sure.”

“You know I was fine keeping her for another night. You could have gone home and crashed.”

“Yes,” Laurel says, holding Shay’s hands and swinging them around to make her giggle, “but I’d miss out on seeing this one, and then where would we all be?”

She’s tired enough that in the middle of Felicity telling her about an invention Applied Science is working on, Laurel drifts off. She only knows this because Felicity texts the team a picture of her out cold, with Shay kneeling on her stomach and leaning over to peer into her open mouth.

 _Trying to figure out where the Canary Snore is coming from_ , she captions it. Laurel tosses a throw pillow at her friend, but she saves the picture to her phone.

* * *

Laurel hears the click of high heels, but she doesn’t move. She’s explored every inch of the lair, usually looking for Steph, who takes hide and seek and roof-tag to the next level, and her adventures have led her to the discovery of a small balance beam in a corner. It’s about twelve feet off the ground and hard to reach, and it’s perfectly out of the way. Theoretically she could lie there and listen to a podcast and nobody should bother her.

She hasn’t really taken into account nosy teammates, though.

“So you’ve found the sulking corner,” Felicity says from below her.

Laurel twists a little to look down at her. “Is that what this is?”

“Usually. Sometimes it’s the brooding corner. Which one is it right now?”

“Oliver’s got the market cornered on brooding,” Laurel says. She props one of her hands under her head and goes back to looking at the ceiling. “Yeti ate one of my Jimmy Choos this morning. I used to think of them as my lucky pair. I won a lot of cases wearing those shoes, and now they’re gone. And yes, I know it’s ridiculous because they’re just shoes, and the superstition was silly. But the whole thing made me remember I’m not a lawyer anymore. So yes. This is me, sulking over my shoes. And the law career, too, but really it’s the shoes.”

“Hey, a great pair of Jimmy Choos is a perfectly fine thing to sulk over. Anything I can do to help? Want me to leave you alone?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine. Just to warn you, Shay’s loose today and if she sees you, well, you’re her favorite person, so…I’ll try to keep her on the other side of the room, though.”

“Got it.”

Contrary to popular belief—well, her sister, Thea, Nyssa, and Felicity—Laurel doesn’t feel sad about the death of her legal career too often. She chewed through a lot of antacids and spent too many late nights fighting a system that was always going to be stacked against her clients. So in a lot of ways, it’s peaceful not to have to worry about that side of things. But she misses arguing rather than punching and finding that one little piece of evidence or precedent that’s going to swing the case her way. And she really liked those shoes, dammit.

She hears a loud squeal from below and twists again. Shay has her head tilted comically back, beaming. There’s a new tooth when she smiles, and she has a little teal bow in her wispy curls. She squeal-shrieks again.

“Okay, okay,” Laurel says. “Guess that’s no more sulking for me.”

“Sorry,” Felicity calls from the computer. “But it’s really cute.”

Laurel climbs down and scoops the girl up. Shay’s first birthday is approaching, which means she’s been back with the team nearly five months. It’s so strange to think about. Shay babbles off a string of nonsense like she’s trying to hold a serious conversation. When Laurel laughs, Shay shoves her fist in her mouth and plays the coquettish miss, ducking down like a turtle. “Yeah, you are _exactly_ like your mother, aren’t you? Gosh, with those eyes, you’re going to be a heartbreaker.”

Shay appears to agree, for she kicks her legs against Laurel and bounces in place.

Felicity, on the other hand, frowns and ducks behind her monitors, almost too quickly for Laurel to notice the expression. Before Laurel can ask, her phone buzzes and her heart stops when she sees that the number is Steph’s school.

* * *

“It’s a stomach bug,” Laurel says into the phone, glancing toward the couch where Steph is tucked into a little ball of misery under the blanket. “It’s apparently going around the school and doesn’t appear to be serious, but it looks like I need to stay home and pour soup down her throat.”

“Not a good patient?” Felicity asks, sounding both concerned and amused.

“Apparently they’re studying _Ozymandias_ in her lit class,” Laurel says. She sits on the edge of the couch and pets Steph’s hair. There’s an open package of saltines, a mixing bowl, and the remains of chicken noodle soup on the coffee table, and Netflix on TV. Steph moans. “She quoted the last lines at me and begged for the sweet embrace of death.”

“Are we sure she wants to go into the field? She may have missed her calling on the stage.”

“I’ll let her know. Keep me updated if there’s anything the team needs, but unless my dad gets back to me, I’m off the roster. Somebody needs to wait on her majesty.”

“Damn straight,” Steph says in a croaky voice. Yeti, doing his best to weigh down the couch, snores on.

“Got it,” Felicity says. “Um, hey, Laurel? Look, this may not be a good time to bring this up, but my timing always sucks anyway—case in point dumping the father of my baby two days before I learned of her existence—but it’s going to drive me nuts unless I say something, so—”

“Felicity,” Laurel says, stepping into the kitchen. “Breathe. What’s the matter?”

“Um, it’s just that you called Shay a heartbreaker earlier and said she was just like me, and now I’m really concerned that I broke your heart, which is the last thing I want to do, like, _ever_.”

Laurel pinches the bridge of her nose. “No,” she says. She’s had her heart smashed before. Oliver dying, Oliver and Sara’s infidelity, both of Sara’s deaths. Her mother leaving. Tommy. Losing her job after Brenton Rolf. “You could have, very easily, but you didn’t.”

“How could I not have?”

“Because even when I know it had to be weird for you, you were kind. And none of it was your fault. This is why I didn’t want anybody to know, for the record.” Laurel runs her hand over her face. “I’ve accepted my life, and certain truths about it. You don’t end up with the love of your life just because that’s what the books and movies say. Oliver cheating and Tommy dying taught me that. Whatever feelings I have, they’re not your responsibility. So, unless you return them, I really wish you’d stop trying to make them that way.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line. She can hear Felicity breathing, so she knows the call hasn’t disconnected.

“Felicity?” Laurel asks, warily.

“You’re speaking in the present tense,” Felicity says in a rush.

“What?”

“You said ‘feelings I have’ not ‘feelings I had.’”

“Yes?” Laurel says, baffled. She hears an unmistakable noise from the next room over. “I have to go. Steph needs me.”

“Yeah, sure. Definitely. Tell her I hope she feels better.”

Steph’s even paler than before when Laurel rushes in, holding the bowl while Yeti looks on nervously. Her eyes are glassy. “Sorry about the coffee table. I kind of missed a little.”

“It’s fine.” Laurel wrinkles her nose. At least it’s not blood. She’ll be happy if her team never picks up on how much she really doesn’t like blood. “Maybe you’ll feel better after a shower, though.”

“I actually feel great,” Steph says as Laurel helps her to her feet. “I could totally fight, like, all of the bad guys. I could fight _you_. Put ’em up.”

“That’s the fever talking. Or you’ve been spending too much time with Thea. I can’t tell.” She gets Steph to the bathroom in one piece and cranks on the hot water, letting the shower heat up while Steph sits on the toilet and stares at the wall.

“I don’t actually want to fight you. You’re not a bad guy, you’re the team mom. And, like, _my_ mom even if I already have a mom. I don’t want to fight my team mom.”

“Okay, this is definitely the fever,” Laurel says. “I’ll go get you some pajamas. I’ll put them inside the door here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Call if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Team Mom.”

Steph crawls into Laurel’s bed, which means Yeti takes up far too much of Laurel’s half, his stubby legs kicking in sleep. Since Steph doesn’t appear to want to let go, Laurel sighs and settles in with a book, trying not to think about the phone call with Felicity. Which is easier said than done when her phone starts buzzing with texts from the subject in question.

 _Would call, but I can’t actually talk. Don’t want to disturb this_.

The selfie shows Shay, eyes closed, sleeping against Felicity’s chest with one tiny fist curled up in her shirt. Laurel texts back her own selfie that includes Steph, mashed up against her, and Yeti, who’s migrated into Laurel’s lap. _know how you feel_ , Laurel texts back.

_How’s she doing?_

_pukey and unhappy. hopefully she’ll feel better in the a.m. any trouble 2nite?_

_Thea handled it. Almost fell in a dumpster, but she parkour’d over it. Roy’s influence?_

Laurel sends back a crying-laughing emoji.

There’s a lull before Felicity’s next text, and Laurel almost picks up her book again. But Felicity texts, _Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer._

_sure_

_Would you have told me how you felt if I hadn’t been with Oliver? Like, would it ever have come up?_

The air freezes in Laurel’s lungs. It’s a valid question, she knows, and one she’s mulled over a few times. And hell, she used to daydream that Oliver wasn’t around, that Felicity would just look at her and not see the dependable fuck-up she’d been fighting her way to becoming the Black Canary.

Before she can answer, more texts scroll across the screen.

_I get what you were saying about Tommy and Oliver, even though it’s super depressing. But would you have even tried?_

_Or is this some kind of suffer in silence as weird penance, like Catholics do?_

_i wasn’t suffering_ , Laurel sends back right away. _i had a good job, great friends, and we may not have been together, but you were there._

_Still._

What does Felicity want her to say? Would haves are useless. That was the thing she learned to give up, the persistent belief that her life had derailed from some bogus predestined journey her heart had determined it would take. This was her reality, and it was up to her to find happiness within it.

 _probably not_ , she finally texts. _my feelings were there before you and oliver got together and i didn’t tell you then._

The reply is almost immediate. _Why not?_

She sighs and decides to tell the truth. _it was obvious how much you liked him. and first thing you learn when you’re bi is don’t fall for straight girls. never ends well._

There’s a long pause, made impossibly longer by the fact that Laurel’s heart is in her throat. This is the most honest she’s allowed herself to be with Felicity; they can work together, help each other out with Steph and Shay, but this insurmountable wall of Laurel’s feelings is always going to come between them.

 _Wait_ , Felicity texts. _Hold up. You think I’m straight?_

_aren’t you?_

_No!_

Laurel drops her phone. Unfortunately, she’s got the dog in her lap, so Yeti lifts his blocky head and squints accusingly at her. “Shh,” she says. She scrunches his face until he lays back down. When she snaps up her phone, there’s a text awaiting her.

_I can’t believe you thought I was straight!_

_I think the first thing I ever said to you was to call you hot or something. I can’t really remember, my brain just kind of ran away from me. But it was definitely embarrassing._

_you said gorgeous. you called me gorgeous laurel._

_And that wasn’t a clue???_

_i thought it was a weird competitive thing because you were into oliver!_ Laurel wants to hide under the covers. Their first meeting has been etched into her brain for years—though it took her a while to realize it was significant, that Felicity would play a giant role in her life—and she never even suspected. _like you were intimidated or something._

_Um, yeah? YOU WERE REALLY CUTE_

_yeah well back at you_ , Laurel fires back before she realizes what she just typed. She groans, which makes Steph stir in her sleep and mumble that she’s thirsty. _gotta go, steph needs a drink._

_Yeah, and this sprog is waking up, too. But don’t think this is over. I can’t believe you thought I was straight._

In the kitchen, she fetches a ginger ale and gives into the need to text her sister and Thea since they’re going to find out anyway. _how come neither of you aholes told me she’s not straight??_

Thea wastes no time sending back approximately a thousand crying-laughing emojis. Sara’s response is a little more succinct: _cuz its obvious?_

And she too sends a crying-laughing emoji.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Five**

Felicity has awful timing. She’s got that in common with bizarro Diana Prince, which would be amusing if Laurel weren’t on a jet racing for the other side of the world while her foster kid is sick and while she’s got unfinished business with the woman she’s loved for nearly four years. Evil clones of the most powerful woman in the world wait for no woman’s romantic troubles, it turns out. At least this time Oliver can’t be grumpy about Laurel leaving the city: she takes him with her, and Barry comes, too.

The resulting battle nearly pushes the entire team beyond capacity. Laurel almost dies three times, gets the crap beaten out of her by a mind-controlled Zatanna, and when Barry saves her life, she gets a brief glimpse of the Speed Force, which is going to give her nightmares. She doesn’t know why speedsters find that place so alluring. It makes her feel helpless, but she supposes that’s because she’s a regular human trying to do the inhumanly possible. But she helps save civilians and is part of the team that prevents the apocalypse—again—so it’s worth a few nightmares, bruises, and the two weeks she’s away from Star City again, or so she tells herself.

She finds Oliver and Barry sitting in the rubble, looking as winded and battered as she feels. She groans as she drops down. Her nightstick digs into her thigh, but she’s too tired to move. She holds out a fist. “Here’s to surviving.”

“Cheers.” Barry taps his fist against hers. “I can’t wait to get home. I’d rather smell King Shark’s fish breath than face evil Wonder Woman ever again.”

“I’m so glad none of our main bad guys is a shark,” Laurel says, and Oliver laughs. “Have I mentioned that lately?”

“I’m not a big fan of seafood myself,” he says. He winces as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Riot act time. We can’t all pretend our phones broke in the fight, can we?”

“Theoretically, an EMP could have taken them all out,” Barry says, checking his own phone. “But she’s smart and she’d know how to check. Plus, we’d have to get new phones to keep up the charade.”

“We weren’t _that_ reckless,” Laurel says. Felicity doesn’t scold her as much as she does Oliver and Barry, but they’re the ones who usually end up on her operating table barely clinging to their lives. Laurel’s only done that, like, once or twice. She blinks at the wall of text messages on her phone. “Or apparently we were. That is quite a list.”

“Shorter than usual, actually,” Oliver says. “Maybe because she has more of us to yell at. It’s kind of nice.”

“Is it? Because there’s a long rant about how you and I have left her to single-parent a teenager and a toddler for two weeks. I didn’t know Felicity knew how to use half of these words.”

“Ask her about MIT sometime,” Oliver says. “But she’s right. We should get home.”

“Sure,” Laurel says, but she doesn’t move. “I’m getting up. Any second now.”

The picture on the main site of _The Daily Planet_ the next day shows the Green Arrow and the Flash yanking a laughing Black Canary to her feet.

On the way over to Felicity’s after they land, Laurel fiddles with her six-month chip and takes a deep breath. She’s had two weeks to think about how she wants to go forward with her life, and she knows this is a necessary step, as much as part of her resents it. After all, Oliver has never extended her any courtesy where her feelings are involved. “Exactly how bad is it going to be if I ask Felicity out?” she asks.

Oliver shrugs. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

“You don’t?”

“What am I supposed to say? Nobody’s ever allowed to date her again?” Oliver slants a look over at Laurel. “I’m not stupid enough to even attempt that. She’d cut me down to size so quickly, even Barry would admire the speed.”

“She really would,” Laurel says. “But I’m not just anybody, I’m your ex and your teammate. And there’s that whole thing with why I left. So I have to check.”

“I’m not altogether thrilled,” Oliver says. “My daughter already likes you more than any of the rest of us. If you’re a bigger part of her life, I’ll have to resort to buying her affection.”

“You will not. She adores you.”

Oliver smiles. “At least you’re not Ray.”

“Palmer?” Right, Felicity’s ex. Laurel has completely forgotten that since she thinks of Ray more as Sara’s teammate. There’s a walking example of smarts not equaling common sense if she ever saw one. “I thought you liked Ray.”

“He’s a great guy, has a good heart, and I absolutely don’t want him anywhere near Shay. I’m worried the bumbling-ness might rub off.”

Laurel cracks up. She misses Oliver’s sometimes-mean sense of humor when the hardness of being the Green Arrow overtakes him. “Oh my god, that’s the perfect way to describe him.”

“See? You’re vastly preferable. Nobody can call you bumbling.”

Laurel snorts and shifts because half of her back is a massive bruise. “This is all theoretical, you know. I haven’t actually talked to her, and we might be an even bigger disaster than either of us was with you. But I have to try.”

“Now that you know she’s bi?”

“Does _everyone_ know about that? Who was it that told? My sister or yours?”

“Yours.”

The house is dark when they arrive, so Oliver uses his key and goes back to check on Shay, taking the teddy bear he brought back with him into the room. “I’m taking the guest bedroom,” he whispers as he comes back and Laurel moves to creep down the hall to check on her own kid. “Enjoy the couch.”

“What happened to chivalry, huh?”

Oliver’s grin is almost blinding. “Went out the window when you decided to try and date my ex. Good night.”

Laurel checks on Steph. Yeti opens one eye, gives her an unimpressed whuffle, and falls back asleep. “I missed you, too,” Laurel says. She pulls the blanket over Steph and backs out of the room quietly, so as not to wake her.

When she bumps into Felicity, it’s a miracle neither of them shrieks.

Felicity opens her mouth, but Laurel shoves her hand over her friend’s face and yanks the door shut behind her, closing it quietly at the last possible second. “Just me. Just me,” she says.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Felicity says, pushing Laurel’s hand down.

“Sorry. We didn’t think anybody was awake.”

“We?”

“Oliver’s in your guest bedroom.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Wait—you’re back! Holy crap, you’re back.” Felicity tackles her, which sends currents of agony through Laurel’s back, but it’s worth it. She must have just climbed out of bed, as she’s warmer than usual, and she smells like lilacs. “Please don’t leave me alone that long again. Between the baby, the teenager, and the dog it was three to one. And that’s not even getting into the members of the board collectively dropping IQ points left and right because I’m absolutely convinced they might be toddlers as well. Or something in the water. But I had Curtis test it, so it clearly wasn’t that and—yeah, please, no more long missions.”

“I missed you.” Laurel hugs her back and holds on. Felicity hugging her this tightly is great, but her back is really starting to hurt. “Okay, ow. Sorry, I need to cool it on the hugging.”

“Oh, god, are you hurt? How bad is it?”

“Bruises. Nothing’s broken, don’t worry. Babs checked me over.”

“Babs is not a doctor.”

“Neither is Dr. Fate, but we don’t hold it against him.” Laurel yawns and goes to the kitchen because she could use some ibuprofen and Felicity’s guaranteed to have some. “How are the kids?”

“Shay had a cold last week, so that was fun. Thea let Steph go on patrol with her a couple nights. I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Of course she did,” Laurel says. Keeping Steph from becoming a full-time vigilante before she can legally vote can be tomorrow’s problem, she decides.

“Um, how bad is it? Your back, I mean. Can I see?”

“Sure.” Laurel doesn’t really think much of it; she’s so used to being checked over that she takes a deep breath and tugs her Flash T-shirt over her head. It’s only as Felicity’s circling around and Laurel’s carefully folding up the shirt that she realizes what exactly she just did.

“Oh my god, Laurel,” Felicity breathes.

“Babs said it looked like a giant mess, so…” She grimaces as Felicity’s fingers trace around the edges, but not out of pain. It kind of tickles, actually. And they’re standing close together in a dimly lit kitchen, and Felicity smells amazing and is all sleep-rumpled and all Laurel can think about is that she’s not straight. Laurel’s mouth goes dry when Felicity’s fingers pause and rest on her shoulder. She doesn’t lean back into the touch. Instead, she clears her throat. “Guess I’m not wearing open-backed dresses any time soon.”

“I’ll let Cisco know he can hold off on that uniform redesign he was pushing for, then.” Felicity clears her throat and steps away. “I have a shirt that buttons up, since I figure lifting your arms is probably annoying right now, if you want.”

“That’s one word for it,” Laurel says, as her shoulders are kind of a mass of agony. She follows Felicity to the bedroom and raises her eyebrows when Felicity holds up a men’s dress shirt. “Thanks, but I quit wearing Oliver’s shirts years ago.”

“I stole this one from Dig. Take whatever pajama bottoms you like.”

The shirt is as comfortable as promised, though she has to roll up the sleeves. The hem is almost longer than the sleep boxers she took out of Felicity’s dresser, too. She stays at the sink for longer than she needs to, head down. Her system’s still incredibly jittery from that moment in the kitchen.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Felicity turns and abruptly drops the bottle of water she’s holding.

Laurel watches the capped bottle bounce around the carpet. At least she’s not the only one affected, as strange as that is. “I get that a lot,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” Felicity says. “Also I know it’s weird because we haven’t talked and we really need to, but I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, not with your back that way. I know you’re like a ninja fighter now, but I’m putting my foot down, so—”

Laurel raises an eyebrow. “Which side do you normally take?”

“Oh. Um, you’re not going to argue? I thought you lived for that and—yeah, why am I still talking, I already won. You can take either side, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Laurel picks the undisturbed side and pulls back the blankets, sighing as she finally gets a chance to lay down. “I may be the Black Canary, but I like my creature comforts,” she says as she cuddles into the pillow. The sheets smell even more amazing than the borrowed shirt. “Give me a real bed any day.”

“Sara warned me you’re a cuddler.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Oh, yeah, cuddling with my very hot friend, my life is so rough.”

Laurel laughs and falls asleep smiling. She’ll ask her out in the morning, she decides.

* * *

Laurel wakes up because hair is tickling her cheek. As much as she wants five more minutes—she’s so comfortable and warm—she cracks open one eye. Laurel drinks in the details: she’s in Felicity’s room, in Felicity’s bed, and she’s apparently the big spoon. Which she knew was going to happen, but now it’s a problem because Steph is standing at the side of the bed with the widest grin Laurel has ever seen.

“Morning, sunshine!” Steph says as Shay bounces in ecstasy on her hip.

Laurel detaches herself from Felicity, who mutters in her sleep but hugs her pillow harder. Moving is a mistake, as her back has now had time to stiffen, but she sits up. Shay practically dive-bombs her.

“Well, well, well,” Steph says as Shay babbles at Laurel, which are clearly requests for hugs and kisses. “What have we here? Does this mean—”

“Okay, enough of that.” Maybe her hug’s a little on the strangle-y side, but she’s missed Steph. Shay squeals with absolute delight, thinking this is a new game, and pulls a lock of Steph’s hair.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Steph says, freeing her hair from Shay’s grip.

“You deserve that for going into the field without my permission,” Laurel says.

Steph’s face goes from surprised to suspicious to betrayed in under a second. “You told?” she asks Felicity, who’s rolled over to face the rest of them. “Traitor.”

“Yup. C’mere, baby girl.”

Laurel transfers Shay over and cautiously stretches out her back. While Felicity’s distracted making nonsense noises at the baby, Steph smirks and makes kissy faces at Laurel.

When Oliver clears his throat from the doorway, Laurel has her charge in a headlock and Felicity and Shay are looking on and laughing. Yeti dances at Steph’s feet, enjoying this new game. “This is you telling them breakfast is ready?” Oliver asks, looking at Steph.

“You should have seen them, they were, like, totally spoo—”

“Breakfast?” Laurel says, perking up. “Perfect, let’s go.”

“You love me,” Steph says, not protesting as Laurel drags her to the dining room.

Laurel grabs an apple out of the bowl and thrusts it toward her. “Please put this in your face.”

“Is this so I’ll stop talking?”

“And you need vitamins or something. It’s too early for me to deal with any of this. I’m only here because there’s breakfast.”

“Yeah, otherwise you could be cuddling with Fel-i-cityyyyy.” Steph crunches into the apple.

“I understand why hamsters eat their young right now,” Laurel says. “I need coffee.”

Felicity keeps a fancy coffee maker that only she can really operate, but luckily she understands that her friends are not as smart as her. Laurel hits the button labeled MILITARY STRONG—which has a little picture of Diggle flexing—and glares sleepily at the mug as the coffee drips into it. She sets up a second mug and hits the button labeled with the little mushroom cloud, always shorthand for Felicity.

Both cups are done by the time Shay’s bouncing in her high chair, lovingly smearing apple mash in her hair and on any part of Oliver she can reach. Steph catches Laurel up on the school gossip she’s missed she’s been away, with snarky asides from Felicity, who’s clearly heard all of this already, and the occasional comment from Oliver or squeal from Shay. It’s the weirdest family breakfast that Laurel has ever attended and her sister-in-law grew up with actual assassins.

“Oh hey,” Oliver says out of the blue, “I forgot I have passes to that Klimt exhibit opening at the Art Museum tonight. I was supposed to put in an a mayoral appearance.”

“Okay?” Felicity says, though Laurel perks up.

“I was hoping to take Shay for a couple of days, so I can’t go.” Oliver turns. “Laurel, do you want the passes? It’s a formal event, but you were always better at those than me.”

“If Steph doesn’t mind, I’d love to go.”

“People in fancy dresses and boring paintings?” Steph wrinkles her nose. “You should take Felicity instead.”

“Oh, sure, _now_ you don’t want to hang out with the old people,” Laurel says.

Felicity clears her throat. “Hey, if you need a plus one, I don’t mind. That sounds interesting. Klimt is…a painter? That’s what I’m getting from art exhibit, but these days, you never know. He could be a sculptor—or she! Could be a she.”

“He’s a painter, Felicity,” Laurel says. “I guarantee you’ve seen his most famous work. Which probably won’t be at the exhibit, but that’s okay, I saw that one when I was backpacking in college. You sure you want to go?”

“Absolutely. It’s a date.”

“It’s a—” Laurel chokes as her brain finally catches up with her. She’s tempted to pinch herself and make sure this isn’t a dream or a trick or something, but the smartass smile on Steph’s face is proof enough that everything happening is real. Steph’s never going to let her live this down. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“Awesome.” Steph claps her hands together. “If you two are busy, and Oliver’s got Shay, that means I can shadow Thea on patrols and—”

“No,” all three of the adults say as one and Steph pouts until Oliver takes her to school.

* * *

“Oh my god,” Laurel says after she’s managed to extricate them from a third conversation before Felicity’s verbal GPS could lead the topic into strange territory. She puts a hand to her forehead. “I’m arm candy. Oh my _god_. This is a nightmare. Don’t you dare laugh.”

“Sorry!” But Felicity’s lips are twitching. “You’re really great-looking arm candy, if it helps?”

Laurel groans.

The opening at the Art Museum is as pretentious as promised, filled with the political movers and shakers that haven’t abandoned Star City and are still willing to attend public events. Laurel puts the odds at about fifty-fifty that there will be an attack, but that hasn’t stopped her from digging out her cutest long-sleeved dress and spending so much time on her makeup that Steph’s going to have joke material for months. The only problem is that this is the first event like this that Laurel has attended where she’s not undercover since she lost her job, and her civilian cover story is that she’s a personal trainer.

A personal trainer dating the CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the country. To outsiders, it says a certain something.

“Maybe we should get you a non-profit,” Felicity says now. “Who even came up with personal trainer?”

“Babs. It started as a joke, but as you can see, neither of us really thought about what it might mean if I have to rub elbows with mayors and CEOs. I feel like I should be speaking in a valley girl accent.”

“Snob. And for the record,” Felicity says, lifting a canapé from a passing tray, “I’m glad you _are_ here rubbing elbows with CEOs because I happen to be having a great time.”

Laurel grins. She can’t help it; she’s been smiling, and that’s not going away anytime soon. “Me too. But I just saw Killian Simmons and if he corners us, we’ll be here all night with him trying to look down our dresses. Dirtbag.”

“We haven’t checked out the balcony yet.” Felicity grabs her hand and pulls her along. “Maybe there are more paintings of topless women up there.”

“You are really hung up on that,” Laurel says. Most of the paintings in the collection have women under garishly bright and patterned blankets, but Felicity’s dropped some spectacular accidental euphemisms about the ones that don’t. Laurel’s having a blast.

“My first date with a woman in years and she takes me to look at paintings of topless women. It’s like, go big or go home in a Sapphic sense.”

“I’ll have you know that this was technically not my idea,” Laurel says, wrinkling her nose. “But I’ll take credit. Otherwise I’ll have to admit that my ex and my foster kid pulled the trigger on getting me a date before I could, even though I was totally going to ask you when I had the chance.”

Felicity pauses at the top of the stairs and tugs Laurel to an open spot against the balustrade. “Maybe I should thank them.” Felicity gives her a prim look, which lasts approximately half a second before she begins laughing. She bumps Laurel with her shoulder, leaning against her. She’s in red, with her hair down, and her makeup is just as flawless as the rest of her. “I know it’s probably clingy and silly to admit it, but I’m glad you’re here. I know it can’t be easy with all these reminders of your former career.”

“I miss it less than you all think,” Laurel says. “I’m only complaining because I miss the social cachet that came with the title. I definitely don’t miss the eyestrain and the machismo in the break room.”

“Now you just get it from Oliver and Dig.”

“Those pussycats? Please.” Laurel sees one of the photographers turn his lens their way. “You’re going to be all over the blogs tomorrow.”

“So are you. Oliver Queen’s exes, getting back at him?” Felicity laughs. “I’m going to have so much fun telling them that he’s the one that set us up. But enough about him, I want to hear more about why you like this Klimt guy so much. You practically lit up when you heard his name.”

Laurel looks down at the people on the main level, all of them clustered around paintings. She did a paper on Gustav Klimt in undergrad, which is really the only reason she knew about him in the first place, but ever since, she’s been drawn to his work. Putting it into words, though, is a little more difficult. “I like that very little about his work is hyper-realistic,” she says. “It’s all over the top, like, body parts are the wrong size and there are these patterns in his landscapes that you’d never see in the real world. And he has a lot of work with two people embracing, where you get the feeling that they like and treasure each other. I was always drawn to how genuine that feels. Even in the surreal and the weird, there’s a human connection, so that always spoke to me.”

“Huh.” Felicity looks over her shoulder at the paintings behind them. “I don’t think I would have ever seen that.”

“To you, art is computer code.”

“And explosions,” Felicity says, and it’s Laurel’s turn to laugh so hard everybody around them turns to look. “These paintings could use a few more of those, if you ask me.”

“Next time I see Klimt, I’ll let him know. I’m sure all the art critics agree with you.”

“They should.” Felicity shoulder-bumps her again. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving and the hors d’oeuvres here are lacking. Want to get out of here and get something to eat?”

“Definitely,” Laurel says.

She half-expects Felicity to ironically suggest Big Belly Burger, but there are food trucks down the street. Since the Art Museum is in one of the few parks Star City has left, they wander along the path. Felicity goes on an extended rant about one of her department heads, brandishing her Korean barbecue tacos to emphasize her points. It’s comfortable and familiar, but there’s a frisson of excitement under everything, knowing Felicity likes her back, and it’s so junior high, but it makes her feel giddy.

They pause at one of the city’s best overlooks. Laurel stops, her hands in her pockets, and studies the lights of her city for a minute. She remembers standing in her father’s guest bedroom and doing the same thing, wondering if she was uprooting her own life and Steph’s life for a mistake, returning to Star City.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks before she really thinks about it. “What changed? I mean, with your feelings about me. Mine were there since that time you helped me after that really bad acid trip.”

“Really?” Felicity coughs a little. “That long?”

“It was nice to have somebody in my corner.” She doesn’t want to talk about being torn down by everything in her life or that long, awful year in hell. “Even when we disagreed, I always felt that’s where you were.”

Felicity looks a little mystified, but she shakes her head. “You are really good at keeping your feelings on the down-low. I had no idea. For me, um, it’s really stupid? And you’re going to hate me.”

“That’s not possible, but try again.”

Felicity jerks her head toward a nearby bench. She stares out at the view and the lights, knees jiggling after they’ve sat down. “Do you remember that morning I was a complete mess and Shay was teething and wouldn’t stop crying?”

“I remember Shay teething, but I don’t remember you being a mess.”

“You are _way_ too nice to me, for the record. It’s one of your biggest flaws. Also, your hair looks too amazing, and you should stop doing that hair flip you always do because it’s distracting.” Felicity shakes her head again as Laurel cracks up. “Anyway, before I got distracted, there was a point—oh, right. Shay’s miserable, I’m miserable, and then you just swept in and fixed everything. Like you do.”

Laurel flips her hair over her shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh my god, seriously, that is distracting, stop. But yeah, that morning after you were so nice to me, I opened my big stupid mouth and said something about how I could kiss you and—” Felicity claps her hand over her mouth, her eyes mischievous as she giggles and Laurel groans because now she remembers. “You went _splat_ , and I was trying not to laugh because you’re perfect Laurel and the Black Canary and you just _flopped_. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was a completely mortifying moment, but your _face_.”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Laurel says, squinting at her. “Maybe I am too nice to you.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say! But anyway, I went home later and it was like, this epiphany, I wasn’t lying. It was like, crap! I actually want to kiss her. When did that happen? What the hell? I mean, it makes sense because you’re _you_ , but it was confusing because I realized I’d probably felt that way a long time.”

“I literally fall flat on my face and _that’s_ when you decide I’m cute?”

“You’ve been cute all along, but that’s when I went from feeling guilty about being part of the reason you left and kind of excited that you felt that way about me. Only, I wasn’t sure the feelings were still there on your part? See, confusing.”

“And I thought you were straight,” Laurel says. She closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath as Felicity giggles again.

“Hey, it worked out. You got to quasi-ask me out on a date, and I got the best arm candy in the room.”

Laurel plays with the ends of Felicity’s hair, enjoying the silkiness against her fingers. She may have faced death and helped save the world just yesterday, but weirdly enough, her heart is in her throat even more now. “I do have to wonder, is it still true? About wanting to kiss me?”

“Um, yes.” Felicity licks her lips, scooting close. “Yes, it really is.”

Laurel slides her hand into Felicity’s hair and leans in. Felicity meets her halfway, kissing her back.

Laurel breaks the kiss first because otherwise she might explode, but Felicity doesn’t let go. She rests her forehead against Laurel’s. “I am really out of practice at this,” Laurel says.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Felicity’s smiling so widely that Laurel’s face aches in sympathy. Her hand skims down Laurel’s side and she tugs until Laurel’s half on top of her. She hasn’t been kissed this way in what feels like forever, desired and almost carefree. She feels Felicity’s lips curve up before she bites down on her lower lip. Laurel gasps.

She hears the sound of footsteps, and it almost doesn’t register because she’s so wrapped up in Felicity and everything’s hazy in the most amazing way. Instinct has her reaching for her nightstick—which she doesn’t have, she’s in a dress on a date for god’s sake—right as the cop rounds the corner.

“Oh my god,” Felicity says ten minutes later as they’re walking to her car. “We just got caught necking in the park like teenagers. That is a thing that just happened. Thank god he didn’t radio it in or anything, Thea’s listening to the police scanner tonight.”

Laurel smirks. At some point, Thea’s going to demand details, and she knows Felicity can’t keep a secret like this to save her life. Soon the whole team will know that they got busted making out on a park bench by a beat cop. Truth be told, she’s a little proud, even though her father will also probably know by morning with the way cops gossip.

That’ll give her something to sass him about.

“So, um.” Felicity taps at the steering wheel as she drives. She’s been calm all evening, so this is a switch, and Laurel can’t decide if she’s proud to have flustered her so much. “Tonight has been really, really great. Like amazingly great, and it’s been so much fun to go out and behave like an adult again and not have to worry about spit-up on my clothes or vigilantes doing their best to get killed or—”

Laurel simply reaches over and puts her hand on Felicity’s arm. “I’m having a great time, too.”

“Right. Okay. Good, that’s good. But, um, if we’re going to keep doing this—and I hope we are, god, I really like you—you should probably know it’s more of an exception than a rule.”

“Surely you’re not busy with your two full-time jobs or your small child that you’re raising half on your own,” Laurel says, and Felicity makes a face. She squeezes Felicity’s arm briefly and lets go. “It’s fine. I had fun, but I don’t need fancy. We can make something work, even if it’s just takeout and watching bad movies on the couch.”

“Yeah?” Felicity asks, and she’s smiling again.

“Of course. Though I’m going to be sad to lose all the opportunities for public indecency in front of my father’s colleagues, I must admit.”

“We’re creative. I’m sure we can find some way to accomplish that. Ooh, maybe I can make out with the Black Canary in public! Or not because we just got our picture taken together at the museum and people would totally put it together that my really cute girlfriend is also the really cute woman in black leather. Yeah, that’s a bad idea.”

“Better to wait until I’m back in the lair for that. I’ll leave the mask on, if you want,” Laurel says, heart soaring at the mention of the word girlfriend, and Felicity grins.

Felicity walks her to her door. As amazing as it is to kiss her, Laurel’s not actually ready to make the leap into sleeping together yet. She’s waited years, she can be patient while they navigate whatever this new relationship means. But taking it slow doesn’t mean she misses out on the opportunity to kiss Felicity good-night under the front porch light.

She takes a couple minutes to lean back against her front door after Felicity drives off, collecting herself and grinning like an idiot. Steph’s still awake, sprawled across the couch with the dog snoring against her thigh and a bag of Doritos in her lap. Laurel climbs over the back of the couch.

“Well, don’t you look like a lovesick dork,” Steph says. “Your lipstick’s smeared.”

Laurel grabs a tissue to wipe it off. It’s Felicity’s shade, which means she’s going to tease her about it tomorrow. “Whoops. Did you have a good night? Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Yeti and I joined a cult, took over said cult, led a revolution, disbanded the cult, and had pizza.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“Yeah, I can see you’re real heartbroken to miss it. Did you and Felicity make out, like, the whole time or did you actually look at the art like boring adults?”

“Your lack of culture depresses me sometimes,” Laurel says, shaking her fist at Steph. “But to answer your question, no, we didn’t spend the entire night making out, and I had a lovely time. However, I’m still wiped out from the whole _yesterday I helped stop the apocalypse_ thing, so I’m going to go to bed. You don’t need anything, do you?”

“I’m good. Just one question, though. Yeti wants to know if he’s going to be Monsieur Lafayette Lance-Smoak or Smoak-Lance.”

“Maybe let us get a second date in before you marry us off, okay?” Laurel leans over and gives Steph a one-armed hug and a smacking kiss on the side of the head. “Good night.”

“Good-night. Stop smiling like a dork,” Steph calls after her as Laurel heads upstairs to shower and collapse in her own bed for the first time in over two weeks.

First, though, she pauses and looks out the bedroom window, where the lights from downtown and the park can be seen. She smiles as she thinks of the park bench, of sharing pizza with her teammates on the floor of her new house, of all the nights running around protecting her streets from danger with Felicity’s voice in her ear.

It’s good to be home. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic comes from a lot of places. The first being the idea that the Black Canary is actually one of the best canonical fighters in the DCU, so I tried to figure out how to make that happen for Laurel. Another component was my ever-present headcanon that Laurel is secretly in love with Felicity and would never tell her. Also I can't help but think that with Laurel being the team mom, she'd be amazing with babies and optimistic but wary teenagers and that was a fun angle to explore. I have about 10,000 ideas about Shay's life growing up, too.
> 
> And I wanted to deal with the idea of recovery, both emotional and from addiction. I have a lot of thoughts about AA, which I don't actually think Laurel would be attending (I feel like she would have done her research and picked a different program that doesn't deal with faith in a higher power as much), but canon implies AA and therefore I stuck with it. Cut from this fic was a scene where Felicity and Laurel discuss it, still in transcript form. If anybody wants that, let me know.


End file.
